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ELFREDA. "LOOK YOU HERE 



ATHELWOLD 



BY 



AMELIE RIVES 
















NEW YORK 

HARPER AND BROTHERS 

MDCCCXCIII 



J^&/!<V*<€a» 



(oQ& 









Copyright, 1893, by Hakper & Brothers. 

All rights i-eserved. 



TO 

MY DEAR FRIEND AND KINSWOMAN 

LEILA GRAHAM PAGE 

THIS LITTLE BOOK IS MOST 
LOVINGLY DEDICATED 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



ELFREDA. " LOOK YOU HERE . . 
EDGAR AND ATHELWOLD .... 
ELFREDA AND HER NURSE. . . . 
"BY ALL THE SAINTS !" . . . . 

"REMEMBER" 

" DOST THOU SPEAK TO ME ? WHAT 

HAVE I DONE ?" 

ENTER ELFREDA, BLAZING WITH 

JEWELS 

DEATH OF ATHELWOLD 



Frontispiece 
Faces page 6 
" 2 6 / 

34: 
" 82/ 

" 104. 

" 112 

" 1161/ 



DRAMATIS PERSON/E 

Edgar, King of England. 
Athelwold, Thane of Edgar. 
Oswald, a priest. 

Frothi, a dwarf and page to Athelwold. 
Olgar, Earl of Devonshire. 
Sigebert, Athelwold's friend. 
Elfreda, Olgar's daughter. 
Bertha, a waiting-woman. 
Elfleda, the King's favorite. 
Elfreda's Nurse. 






ACT I 

Scene i. — A Hall in the Palace. 

[Enter Sigebert and Athelwold, followed by 
the dwarf Frothi.] 

Sig. I tell thee, Athelwold, he means thee 
harm ; 
'Tis in the very trick o's eyelids. 

Atb. Well ? 

To mean harm is but little. "Were a wolr 
To think alone of biting, who'd fare ill ? 

Sig. Thou speakest well o' wolves. Ay, 
Athelwold, 
Edgar hath not yet rid us of them all, 
Though he hath chased the greater part to Wales 5 
He hath a wolf-cub to his pampering 
Beneath this very roof. 

Atb. Who ? Oswald ? 

Sig. Ay, 

Oswald himself, none other. Oswald — he — 
That long -lipped, lean, up-looking, crook -eyed 
beast j 



That cringing, fawning, fulsome, nattering knave ; 
That slow - speeched, soft -voiced, wide -smiled 
Oswald. 

Atb. So 

Thou dost not love this Oswald overwell ? 

Sig. Thou knowest that I hate him. 

Atb. And for what ? 

Sig. Thou dost outpatience me ! I hate him 
for — 
I hate him on account of — Oh, I hate him 
Because that he is Oswald. 

Atb. Sagely put. 

Thou couldst not hate him were he not himself. 
That were a fault somewhat beyond his mending. 

Sig. Wilt thou be light ? I say he means 
thee hurt. 

Atb. To mean is one thing, and to hurt an- 
other. 

Sig. Then thou wilt not be warned? 

Atb. Sigebert, come here. 

I love thee well, and that thou knowest, lad. 
Thou dost love me, and that I also know. 
Moreover, I know this — that ofttimes love 
Imagines danger where all is secure. 
Think you 'tis in the power of such an one 
As thou hast said this Oswald to hurt me, 
The King's friend, Athelwold? 

Sig. It is for that 

I think he means thee harm. 



Ath. For what, boy ? 

Sig. Why, 

For that thou art the King's friend, Athelwold. 
All's sunshine now — flowers bend about thy way, 
The wheels of thy triumphal car crush roses — 
A pebble may clog all. 

Ath. What say'st ? 

Sig. A word, 

A look, a hint dropped when the King's in wine; 
Thou may'st have vexed him with some haughty 

freak, 
Have jostled 'gainst his poise of self-esteem, 
Have made too free, have laughed too long. 

Ath. What then? 

Sig. Then comes this Oswald with his honey 
tongue, 
Which overrolls the bitter of his words 
As actual honey deadens nauseous drugs — 
Comes he, I say, and into Edgar's ear, 
Ready and dull with wine, doth drop some jest, 
Only mayhap some hint, some slight allusion, 
Some dainty telling of some doubtful tale ; 
And thou wilt then discover all too late 
That Sigebert warned thee not without occasion. 

Ath. Soft, soft, sweet boy ! Be not offended. 
Come, 
I will be light no longer. Dost thou think this ? 

Sig. As I do live I think it ! 

Ath. Thou hast noted? 

3 



Hast watched him? hast deduced this from his 
actions ? 
Sig. I have his actions down as in a book. 
He means thee harm. 

Ath. The rogue's a vicious rogue, 

Yet I have never vexed him that I know. 

Sig. I think for that, mayhap, he hates thee 

more. 
Ath. Well, well, I will be careful. So content 
thee, 
I will be careful, sweetheart. Ah, the King ! 
Sig. The King — and Oswald. 

[Enter Edgar and Oswald.] 

Ed. Greeting, gentlemen. 

(To Athelwold.) Look you, my Thane, a 

word with you apart. 
Good friends, I pray you take it not amiss 
If I do ask your absence for a time. 
By Paul, 'tis well ! 

[Exit Sigebert and Oswald.] 
Ath. What, Edgar ? 

Ed. Why, to walk, 

Stretch our minds' muscles in an equal tug, 
And scuffle for convictions. Feel the King 
But in this golden hoop which thou shalt have 
To rest thy foot on as we talk. So, bauble ! 

[Flings his crown from him.] 
Look there, my Thane, spins it not merrily ? 
4 



The crown feels not the dignity it makes. 
So wanton are all emblems, that the cloak 
Which folds a king will kiss a crooked nail 
As quickly as a beggar's gabardine 
Will do like office, and a monarch's crown 
Spin like a discus fallen from the mark. 
Let us sit here. 

Ath. Thou'rt in a foreign mood. 

Who set the fashion ? 

Ed. Why, go hang, Sir Thane ! 

Fashions are princes' lackeys. But a truce. 
Know you Lord Olgar ? 

Ath. Earl of Devonshire? 

Ed. The man. You know him ? 

Ath. If to know his deeds 

Be to know him, why, then I know him. 

Ed. Soft. 

What deeds translate the doer properly ? 
Nero once stooped to pat his mother's hound. 
I say, know you this man in person? 

Ath. Nay ; 

I have not even seen him. 

Ed. There's much talk 

About his daughter. Were the breath of praise 
Given simultaneously, there were a wind 
To blow her into heaven. 

Ath. And as it is, 

There hath sufficient been already, sire, 
To waft her into Edgar's estimation? 
5 



Ed. Go hang ! I am but mine own gossiper, 
They say that she is beautiful. 

Ath. My liege, 

Were spoken beauty always actual, 
There's not an ugly maid in England. 

Ed. Well > 

I know none. 

Ath. That were like as tho' St. Peter 

Should seek to prove the emptiness of hell 
By saying that he knew none of its inmates. 
Now, Edgar, as I live, 'tis my belief 
That Satan will intrust thy bed o' coals 
To some uncomely wench. There were no tort- 
ure 
Could subtler touch thee. 

£ L l Nay, Fll swear that's false. 

I am more racked when men do talk like maids 5 
Therefore I am more tortured o' the instant. 
Give o'er this jest, my swordsman ; I would hear 
More o' this maid. 

Ath. Then it is safe to say 

This maid hears more of thee. 

Ed. 1 sa y> g' ve oer - 

Thou'st seen her ? 

Ath. Nay 5 nor tree nor blossom. 

Ed. Come, 

What is this foolery ? 

Ath. Why, 'tis to say, 

I have not seen the sire or the daughter. 
6 




EDGAR AND ATHELWOLD 



" Ed. Three men to-day have told me of her 
beauty. 

Atb. Three girls to - morrow will deny the 
statement. 

Ed. I will the more believe it in that case. 
I am afire with fancy, Athelwold ; 
In love with painted air. A patch of light 
Upon the floor doth mind me of the hue 
They say her locks are, and I can but think 
Upon the tender roundness of her arms 
When some such pretty arm doth woo mine eyes. 
Words are but gems for her adorning. Yea, 
IVe set her very motion to a tune. 
I hav't by heart — her look, her voice, her lips. 
They say her eyes are blue. All heaven's above 
To keep me from forgetting. Look you here. 
This is no uncrowned babble ; man and king 
Both speak in this : I tell thee, Athelwold, 
If she be fair as by report she shows, 
I'll make her Queen of England — 

Atb. What, my lord? — 

Ed. I say I'll make her Queen of England. 

Atb. Queen? 

Art thou in earnest ? 

Ed. Ay, I'll make her Queen ; 

Espouse her, crown her, seat her on my throne. 
But I must have a certain knowledge. 

Atb. What ! 

All this on sober Friday ? 
7 



Ed. Nay, I tell thee 

I am not jesting. 

Ath. Tell me that again. 

Ed. I say I am not jesting. Dost thou hear ? 
I am not jesting. If this maiden, sir, 
Be fair in truth as I do picture her, 
I swear by God's crown I will give her mine. 

Ath. To wear about her waist ? 

Ed. No, by my troth ! 

To give thee for a collar as her slave, 
An thou dost irk me further. 

Ath. Good my liege, 

This fact holds monstrous mirth or little reason. 
What hath so urged thee ? 

Ed. I am fancy-spurred 5 — 

In love with mine imagination ; meshed 
In webs of mine own weaving ; made a slave 
By chains of mine own hammering. Give ear, 
I would be certain. 

Ath. Well, my liege? 

Ed. I would 

Be certain, Athelwold. 

Ath. Why, send and learn. 

Ed. Ay, that's my purpose, and thou art the 
man. 

Ath. I, Edgar? 

Ed. Yea; who else? 

Ath. Thou wouldst send me 

A-wenching for thee ? 

8 



• Ed. What ! That word to me ? 

I told thee once — ■ 

Ath. Then thou must tell me twice. 

I say I will not do thy wenching for thee. 

Ed. Even Athelwold may speak too freely. 

Ath. And 

Even Edgar may require too much of friendship. 

Ed. Have I not said I wish her for my Queen? 
Is not all honorable ? What's amiss ? 
There's one condition only — shouldst thou find 
That she is not so comely as men say, 
Why, there's an end of it. Nor Queen nor leman 
Shall smile on Edgar with a flabby lip. 
Go to. What fire is in thee ? O' my word, 
Thou wouldst have been a colt to break! Go hang! 
" A-wenching for me ?" It was nobly said ! 
Now, by my crown, wert thou another — nay, 
Didst thou so much as look unlike thyself, 
Thou shouldst pay dearly for thy pride ! 

Ath. I pay 

More dear for thine, I tell thee, Edgar. 

Ed. Nay, 

Try me no more. Kings do not pardon twice 
On the same day. Vex me no further, sir. 
Thou art commissioned unto Devonshire 
To bring me word of Olgar's daughter. 

[Exit angrily.] 

Ath. So— 

Royalty is a whip to scourge the time. 
b 9 



As man to man I like him ; as my King, 

He hath no parcel in me. This is well ; 

Ay, this is well indeed. I am commissioned 

To match a blue eye by a bit of heaven; 

To find if certain tresses match the sun ; 

If her throat be so white, her arms so smooth, 

Her motion delicate. If all these charms 

Make up a charming maiden. By the saints — 

Nay, by great Woden, Thor the Hammerer, 

Loki, and all the gods of stalwart days — 

It is enough to set my sword adance 

Within its scabbard. I his pander? Nay, 

Let him set Oswald tripping to this tune. 

I know but ill to foot such love-measures. 

Let him send Oswald — Oswald? — Oswald? — ah! 

Why, there's a thought ! 

[Enter Frothi, his dwarf. He comes up behind, 
and speaks softly.] 

Fro. And here's another, master, 

To keep it warm. 

Ath. How, Frothi ? Art thou there ? 

Fro. Ay, master, and this thought o 1 mine doth 
wait 
Upon thy thought, e'en as I wait on thee. 

Ath. Speak, boy. 

Fro. What, master ? In a palace ? Why, 
Know you not that to whisper of a king 
In his own house is to hand Death a weapon ? 
10 



•Ath. Well, dare him, then. I would this 
thought of thine. 

Fro. Master, it doth concern a wolf. Nay, 
master, 
Lower thine ear. It treateth of a wolf. 
Edgar hath rid all England of these wolves. 

Ath. Say'st thou that also? 

Fro. Nay, give ear — stoop down. 

I say the King hath rid us of these wolves — 
All saving one, who fled not with the rest 
To the Welsh hills. They call him Oswald, sir. 
Fll sing to thee a song which hath for theme 
His cunning and his treachery and his fangs. 

Ath. Say you ? 

Fro. Ay, master, but not here — not here. 

Ath. Why, then, without ; come on, boy. 

[Exeunt.] 

Scene 2. — Elfleda's Apartment in the Pal- 
ace. Elfleda and Oswald. 

Elfl. You say it works ? You speak a cer- 
tainty ? 
You watched them personally ? Marked his look ? 
Noted his manner? What said Athelwold? 
Did he agree straightway, or was there room 
For anger ? Was the King — 

Oszv. Peace ! peace ! peace ! peace ! 

I pray you, madam, softly. Here are questions ! 
I told thee that I walked apart with Sigebert ; 
11 



How should I watch them ? Sigebert, thou dost 

know, 
Holds Athelwold as dear as doth the King; 
Wouldst have the watcher watched ? Nay, but 

it works; 
It works. I'll stake my ears but it doth work. 

Elfl. An thou dost tell me false, I'll take thy 
ears 
To feed my deer-hound. 

Osiv. By my troth, then, madam, 

Thy dog shall never die digesting me. 
Success hath signs which the successful know. 
I tell thee, it will work. 

Elfl. But how of Athelwold? 

Hast reckoned of his coldness unto women ? 
His heart is iron. 

Os-iv. Madam, thou must know 

That iron heated is a fire itself. 
What if from passion's glow the after-plunge 
Into the icy waters of reflection 
Doth temper it to steel ? The work is done ; 
And, lady, not to give thee witting pain, 
This maiden, this Elfreda, is so fair 
That thy white self would pale beside her beauty 
As when a moon doth melt on mid-day skies. 
She seems made up of heavenly moods. Her 

brow 
Is fair as glimpses of the morning clouds. 
Her eyes like spaces where the blue doth gleam 
12 



Between them, and the sunset's after-glow 
Dies on her cheek. Thou dost no more com- 
pare — 
Sweet dame, forgive me, but thou dost no more 
Compare with this Elfreda, this slim maid, 
Than music silent doth to music sung. 

Elfl. If thine the singing, I were fairer, knave. 
Dost think to vex me by such mummery ? 
Go kindle Iceland. Go and blow the sea 
Into a tempest. Go and light thy torch 
At some near star. 

Osvv. Some falling star, mayhap. 

Elfl. Have care, have care ; if thou forget'st 
thyself, 
Forget not me and what I am, and what 
Thou mayest be. 

Osiv. Why, no. Thou art Elfleda, 

The quean of Edgar, not the Queen of Eng- 
land. 

Elfl. Dog! 

Os-zu. Then beware my teeth. 

Elfl. Now, as I live, 

But that thou hast more knowledge of this vent- 
ure, 
Td have those fangs of thine drawn out straight- 
way 
To make fool's music in a bladder. Look, sir, 
If thou dost fail in this, I will not fail 
In that I purpose for thy punishment. [Exit.] 
13 



Osw. Ay, 'twas well thought of; it was well 
conceived. 
This Athelwold — this rust upon my brightness, 
This pampered honey-gatherer of the King, 
This lion of the dandelion locks, 
The stealer of week-day kisses in a church, 
This bracelet -keeper, this dull-sworded swords- 
man, 
This well-beloved friend of Edgar. Why, 
Who else should go- on such an errand? Why, 
Who else could better choose this King a Queen? 
Here be a judge of noses ! Here be one 
To rightly test the sweetness of a mouth 
By tasting ; learn the smallness of a waist 
By measurement of arm ! Men long to love, 
Love quickest when 'tis time ; for all their lives 
They do adore some shadow, which, reality 
Resembling, doth outshine as mid-day sun 
Outshines the sparkelries that close - pressed 

thumbs 
Make on the inner lids. I know his bent, 
And, judging by the women he hath scorned, 
Can sure select the woman he will love. [Exit.] 
14 



ACT II 
Scene i. — A Country Road. 

[Enter Athelvvold and Frothi, on horse- 
back.] 

Atb. Is this the place ? 

Fro. I see no crooked tree, 

As they did tell us. Look, it should be here, 
Just by that barberry-bush. 

4-th. We've lost the way. 

Plague on these rambling country roads, I say, 
Though they led on to heaven ! Boy, ride ahead. 
Stay, here's my horse ; take him, and tie him 

there — 
There, to that sapling. I will rest me here 
Upon this grass bank, whilst thou dost inquire 
The nearest way unto Lord Olgar's castle. 
Despatch, now, Quick- heels! Do not let me 

dream 
That thou art back, and wake to find thee ab- 
sent- [Exit Frothi.] 
Odds me ! I am aweary. This lush spot 

[Talking drowsily, as if falling asleep.] 
Wooes me to sleep. So. I will loll here at ease 
Until my boy returns. Now, if I dream, 
Let it not be of waking ,• yet to sleep 
Is but to be alive in spite of thee, 
*5 



Defy thy reason, and do wondrous deeds, 

Such as to cast thy sword among the stars 

To loosen some for thine adorning, — ay, 

As when a boy casts billets at a tree 

To shake its apples earthward. Do I sleep, 

I pray I dream of apples, nothing wiser. 

Light dreams give heaviest sleep. But then, 

good sootli ! 
I never sleep in daytime. It is well 
To hear the summer humming of the fields, 
Like love-songs stifled in the cloak of sleep. 
Sleep, said I? — Sleep? — I — sleep — not — i' th' — 

day — [He sleeps.] 

[Enter Elfreda and her Woman.] 

Elf. So— Bertha? 

Ber. Madam ? 

Elf. (bending over Athelwold). Look you 
here ! 

Ber. (cautiously). Sweet saints ! 

It is a man ! 

Elf. A man ? Go to ! Say rather 

A god, who, venturing too near the sun, 
Slipped with the further glory to the earth. 
Look you what hair ! It is more bright than 
mine. 

Ber. No, madam. 

Elf. No? I tell you that it is. 

Give eyes ; Fll match it. 
16 



Ber. (fearfully). Pray you, madam — 

Elf. ■ What? 

Ber. Why, do not wake him ; do not walk so 

close. 
Elf. By Balder ! he doth look like Balder's self! 
His locks are spread like sunlight on the grass. 
Pah ! loose my sleeve, thou timorous flitter- 

mouse ! 
Ah ! ah ! — his eyes are blue 5 stoop, girl ; peep 

there ; 
See how they gleam between his near-closed lids, 
Like so much heaven-blue drowned in drops o' 

rain. 
I'll lay thee a new kirtle that his hair 
Is brighter. 

Ber. Nay, sweet lady ! Nay, come back. 

Elf Pshaw ! Wouldst thou sour me with this 
thundering 
Of fearful words ? Look, now ! Said I not so ? 
[Stoops and matches Athelwold's hair 
with one of her own tresses.] 
Thou'st lost the petticoat, but won my love 
By being witness to my judgment. Soft ! 
Step softer — what a voice your gown hath, girl ! 
Here be an arm to crack the ribs of War, 
Yet white out of all correspondence ! Come, 
I think 'tis whiter than mine own. Let's see. 
[Bares her arm, and compares it with Ath- 
elwold's.] 
c 17 



Ber. Madam! — good mistress! 

Elf It doth not seem fair 

That all this looking should be on one side. 
How if I tickle him with a grass-blade ? 

Ber. Na Y> 

Come ! — come, for God's love ! It may be some 

demon 
In fair disguise. 

Elf Disguise so fair, good wench, 

Were far too tight a fit for wickedness. 
Pluck me that oxlip there. 

2er. Oh, madam, tarry ! 

Be warned, be warned ! He may awake in like- 



ness 



Of some foul thing— a wolf, a bear, a dragon. 
Elf. Time then to fly. Give me the flower, 

wench. 
Ber. Oh, I will get me gone to cry for help ! 

[Exit Bertha.] 
Elf. (leaning over Athelwold with the oxlip.) 
Shall I first touch him on the lips or eyes ? 
His lips are nearest. Let me see (laughing). He 

wakes. 
No; sleep hath won him from me. Well, let be. 
'Tis something, sooth ! to find such beauty quiet, 
That eyes may rest in looking. I will wait 
Content unseen to see. There ! then he stirred. 
Nay; still as ever. Why, methinks, in truth, 
Thou hast a very genius, sir, for sleeping, 
18 



While I've not even the small consolation 
Of thinking that I figure in thy dreams, 
Seeing thou dost not know me. What, again ! 
Thou dost grow restless. There ! more sound 

than ever ! 
I'll touch his eyes this time ; and now his lips ; 
And now, again, his eyes j and now (looking all 
about her) his lips ! [Kisses him.] 

Ath. (starting up on his elbow). How, boy ! 
Where is't ? The crooked tree. What's 
there ? 
I have been dreaming. (Sees Elfreda.) Soft, 

though, I still dream. 
What art thou ? 

Elf. (mysteriously). Thine imagination. 
Ath. Then 

Thou hast usurped my reason's office. Come ! 
Elf What wouldst thou ? 
Ath. I would pinch thee. 

Elf Pinch me ? 

Ath. Ay. 

Thou art so like substance that I'd think 
Myself a shadow ere thyself a dream. 

Elf (holding out her hand). Why, here, then. 

Kisses prove as much as pinches. 
Ath. So, lady (kisses her hand). 
Elf. Recollect, I am a dream. 

Ath. Yea, that shall be mine office when I wake. 
Meantime I'd prove thy other hand. [Kisses it.] 



Elf. Nay, sir, 

It was a jest. Thou art awake. Awake 
In Devonshire. 

Ath. That is to dream of love. 

Elf. Such dreams prove often nightmares. 

Ath. Wake me, then. 

Elf. I know not how. 

Ath. Show me some ugly mark — 
Some mole, some flaw, some lacking in thy beauty. 
ByV laykin, girl ! thou hast some witchery, 
Some charm. Dost walk with fern-seed in thy 

shoe ? 
Nay, heed me not. Here, take thy flowers and 

run ; 
I fear myself. How comes it woman eyes 
Look from thy baby face ? Furl thy white lids 
If thou wouldst have men recollect thy youth ; 
Thine eyes do lash the blood like whips of flame, 
And yet thy face is pure. It is some freak 
Of circumstance ; but hide thine eyes from men 
If thou wouldst keep thine honor. Nay, fear 

not; 
I mean no hurt to thee, but all in kindness. 
Thou shouldst less fear my harshness, pretty 

maid, 
Than most men's kindness. There ! run, run, 

I say ! 
Betwixt thee and my preaching there's no pulpit. 
Yet stay; I have a thought. 
20 



Elf. Canst not divide it? 

Ath. Nay ; 'tis too meagre for division. 

Elf. Well ? 

Ath. Or ill, I know not. Pretty lass, come 
here. 

Elf. Thou hast just bidden me begone. 

Ath. Ay, Ay. 

Elf. Shall I obey thy first or after speaking? 

Ath. (absently). Those eyes of thine are blue. 

Elf. Is there aught writ 

Against blue eyes ? 

Ath. Naught but what they may read. 

Elf. Thine eyes are blue. 

Ath. Look closer — they're not blue. 

Elf. (looking). Heaven is not blue if they're 
not. 

Ath. Well, thy way. 

Have thine own way. (Aside.) Were I to take 

this maiden 
Back unto Edgar, by my sword ! he'd wed her, 
If but to match her gold locks with a crown. 

Elf What dost thou speak ? Some charm ? 
Why, then Til run. [Pretending to go.] 

Ath. Nay, not so quick. Fve words for thee. 

Elf. Why, then, 

Keep them thyself. Such gifts I care not for. 

Ath. Gifts ? Dost thou care for baubles, lady- 
bird? 

Elf. As birds for cherries. 



Ath. (unbuckling a knot of precious stones 
from his hat feather). Here, then. Wilt thou 
have't ? 

Elf What for? 

Ath. A kiss. 

Elf. Nay, keep it. 

Ath. What ! so coy ? 

Thy veil is bolder. 

Elf. Nay ; it flies away. 

I'll follow. 

Ath. Soft : run not. Keep thy red lips 

Unto thy husband's kissing; I'll not rob him — 
Thy future lord — of one. Yet such were thieves 
More blessed in sin than virtue. Look you, girl, 
I'll kiss you spite o' perjury. Soft — soft — 
Talons, my dove ? 

[He holds her, and she feigns to struggle.] 

Elf. I'll bite thee for thy kiss ! 

Ath. Why, thou'rt a pretty griffin, claws and 
teeth ! 
Gently, my wild one — 

Elf. Ha ! thou durst not do it ! 

Ath. Thou durst not bite me. 

Elf. Thou durst not kiss me ! 

Ath. Why, so, then — so, then — so, then — (kiss- 
ing her. Elfreda feigns to weep). Nay, 
pale saints ! 
What have I done ? Weep not ! Weep not ! 
What devil 

22 



Am I possessed of? No more tears. Look up. 

Art thou a village lass ? Thy parents poor ? 

I'll give thee moneys — all thy kirtle full 

Of broad gold pieces. Pretty bird, weep not ! 

Look you, if kisses scarred, you well might weep. 

Why, if men's kisses left small spots o' green, 

Young maids would walk as verdant as the 
spring ! 

Give me thy name, and I will make it famous ; 

Ay, thou shalt have it writ above thy grave: 

" Here lies a maid who cried because, instead 

Of for a kiss — " Why, there, that's right ! 
Smile — smile ! 

Is thy home far ? An 'tis, thou shalt mount up 

And ride behind me. Come ! 

Elf. Nay, I must go, 

And as I came. Here, sir, take back thy jewel ; 

I'll none of it. 

Ath. Give me my kiss back, too. [Kisses her.] 
Elf. Out on thee ! [Runs out.] 

Ath. How she moves ! Her noble gait 

Matches her birth as little as her eyes. 

[Enter Frothi.] 

Heigho ! here comes the lad. What news, boy > 

Fro. Sir, 

Good news 5 we be but short ways from the 

castle. 
Ere sundown we can reach it. 
23 



Ath. Well, come on. 

Did see one running as thou rodest along? 

Fro. Ay, sir. As fair a Jane-of-Apes, in truth, 
As e'er I looked on — laughing as she ran. 

Ath. Laughing ? 

Fro. Ay, sir, and that with all her might. 

Her pretty bosom, working up and down, 
Did, like a bellows, blow the flame o' mirth 
Into her eyes. God's me ! she laughed, sir ! 

Ath. Laughed ? 

Fro. What's there in laughing? 

Ath. Naught but what we see. 

(To himself.) Well, laughing ! Well, the jade! 

Fro. What say'st thou, sir ? 

Ath. That we must hasten supperwards. Come 
on. [Exeunt.] 

Scene 2.- — A Room in Olgar's Castle, Elfre- 
da's Nurse sitting at her spinning. 

Nur. Whence got she these ungodly ways ? I 
know not. 
She hath been brought up at the knee o' Wisdom, 
As 'twere upon her milk. With such a mother — 
Lord ! Lord ! — I know not how it is — not I ! 
And yet she is so fair, the saucy hussy ! 
She'll turn me as I turn this wheel o' mine. 
I can naught with her. Still she'll jaunt the road 
In coarse attire, drest out in Bertha's kirtle. 
Well, well, I know not how to mend it. Heaven 
24 



Doth know I scold and scold, and pray and pray? 
To-day she hath set forth. I followed her j 
Besought her with much trick o' tongue and love 
That she would not set forth. Soft ! Let me hear. 
It is my lady. 

[Enter Bertha, breathless.] 

How ! thou margot pye ? 
What dost thou, and without my lady ? 

Ber. Nay, 

Word me not, goody. I have come for thee. 
My lady will be tarrying i' th 1 lane, 
A-tickling of a sleepy knight with flowers. 

Nur. Dost want my spindle, hussy ? What's 
this clack ? 
Wilt word me, then ? Knowest not to hold thy 

tongue ? 
My lady tarrying tickling in a lane ! 
Hold ! Here be she herself ! Hark how she laughs ! 
Methinks she hath been tickling of herself, 
Hey, ninny? Thou fat-witted tattler, thou ! 

[Elfreda enters and flings herself upon a settle, 
laughing and breathless.] 

How now, my lamb ? How now, my pretty one ? 
Thou'rt in fine feather. 

Elf. Am I so ? Oh, nurse, 

How thine old tongue will wag ! What eyes 
thoiflt make ! 

D 25 



" He'll fill my kirtle up with broad gold pieces.'" 
Nay, let me laugh ! Fll ne'er be quits with mirth. 
Ho! Is't thou, Bertha? Fair good -morrow, 

Bertha. 
Get to the kitchen, girl. Be ofF, I say ! 

[Exit Bertha.] 
Now, nurse, take breath. Thou hast an hour 

before thee 
Of most fierce jaw-work. 

Nur. Wilt thou tease me, honey? 

Lord ! Lord ! but thou be hot ! A-running, 

lamb ? 
Let me disrobe thee ; let me fetch thy gown. 
These rags do shame thy station and my office. 

Elf Let be, let be, until I tell my tale. 
How thou wilt scold me ! And he thought I 

wept ! 
By all birds' wings that ever flew, good nurse, 
Freedom is sweet ! Wild maidenhood is sweet ! 
Saints ! he can kiss ! He hath the kissing cut. 
My blood ran up to meet his mouth. Speak, 

nurse : 
Was that a sin ? 'Ware how thou answerest, 

though, 
Lest I find sin more sweet than virtue. Ah, 
Wast thou e'er kissed, nurse ? 

Nur. (simpering). Time and time again. 

Elf. Is that the reason of thy lack o' lips ? 
Methinks 'twill take a merry thought o' time 
26 



'-/A 





KLFREDA AND HER NURSE 



To kiss my lips away. Look you, sweet nurse ; 
What of blue eyes? Hast thou some legend? 

Eyes 
That seem the condensation of all heaven. 
What's said of blue-eyed men ? 

Nur. A might o' things. 

Elf. Well, word it, word it ! What is said of 

them ? 
Nur. That doth depend upon the one that 

speaks. 
Elf. Go to ! I'll pinch thee. Look thee, 
nurse ; i' faith, 
Soberly, dainty nurse, is there no song, 
No elfin singing of these blue-eyed men ? 
Nur. Ay, ay, belike. 

Elf. Belike, sweet nurse ? 

Nur. Belike 

His daddy or his dam was blue-eyed too. 

Elf. Out on thee ! Wilt thou be in my dis- 
pleasure ? 
Nay, nay, I meant it not ; but jest no more. 
What o' blue eyes ? 

Nur. (tapping her chin thoughtfully). Let's 
see — let's see — let's see. 
They'd make a red nose look the redder. 

Elf. (pettishly). Oh, 

I hate thee ! 

Nur. (almost in tears). Well-a-day! 
Elf. (coaxingly). No ; now I love thee. 

27 



Be reasonable, though ; give me some comfort. 
Hadst thou a sweetheart ? 

Nur. Ay ; a was my husband. 

Elf. But thou hadst others ? 

Nur. Oh, Lord love you — yes ! 

Elf What was the color of thy sweetheart's 
eyes ? 

Nur. Black, honey. 

Elf Black? 

Nur. Ay, black as roasted corn 

When Bertha roasts it. A was known for's looks. 

Elf (in a wheedling tone). Mayhap they were 
dark blue, and so looked black. 

Nur, Black as two cinders fallen on a shift 
On washing-days. A had a fine white brow, 
White as thy linen when that I do wash it, 
And leave it not for Bertha to smutch o'er. 
Methinks there was not so much blue in them 
As would have striped a moth's wing. 

Elf Well, but nurse, 

Give me some story that thou know'st. Canst 

say 
If such be true or false ? 

Nur. Oh, false, I'll warrant ! 

Elf. Why, nurse ? Come, glibly, nurse ! Why 
wilt thou think it ? 

Nur. Why, all that's theirs of heaven is in their 
eyes. 
Thou'lt find it so. And look ye, lady-bird — 
28 



Elf. (absently and smiling). 'Twas so he called 
me. 

Nur. (furiously). Out upon him! Lout! 

Impudent lout! Could I but finger him! 

Elf. Now thou art silly. 

Nur. Nay, I am not, honey. 

Give ear, my cade lamb ; thou must not so 

freely — 
'Tis sin to kiss for kissing. 

Elf. What for, then ? 

Nur. For love, heart. Dost thou heed ? 

Elf. I listen, goody, 

But come not at thy meaning. 

Nur. Thou must love 

The man, and not the lips that kiss thee only. 

Elf. (absently and half to herself). I know not. 
It was sweet. IVe thought on it 
Until it pierced me like a little flame 
From head to foot. Who comes ? 

[Enter Olgar.] 

Olg. (fondly). Thy father, wench. 

Look you, my mouse, who think you is below, 
And hungry ? 

Elf. My lord Ethelbert ? Not he ? 

Lewellyn, then ? Why, then — 

Olg. There — stay thy guessing. 

This is beyond thee. 'Tis none other, girl, 
Than Athelwold, the King's Thane — Athelwold, 
29 



The friend of Edgar, owner of much gold, 
Lord of the noblest fields in England, child. 
Come ! slough these dingy rags, my bright-eyed 

snake ; 
Trick thee in all thy best to welcome him. 
See you unto it, nurse. No dallying. Come, 
Trip it, my lass. This may mean all or nothing. 

[Exeunt omnes.] 

Scene 3. — A Hall in Olgar's Castle., 
[Enter Athelwold alone.] 
Ath. This venture doth hang heavily upon me. 
Edgar hath halved my love for him by this, 
And hath retained the worm-eaten portion. 

Yea, 
IVe shut mine eyes upon his tyranny, 
So long as me it touched not ; now, indeed, 
Its sharp and grasping fangs sink in my flesh. 
Fm vexed for being vexed. Knew he not oth- 
ers 
To do this thing for him ? Friendship hath laws 
More stern than kingdoms. I confess in full 
That I chafe at it. If the maid prove worthy, 
Fll yield this King my fealty and his Queen 
At the same time, make monk-pens of my castles, 
And swing a foreign sword in mine own cause. 
Yet he hath loved me. But he should not try 

me 
Unto this measure. 

30 



[Enter Olgar.] 

Olg. Sir, I crave thy patience. 

Thou shalt be served forthwith, in such short 

time 
As't takes a wench to put her gewgaws on. 
My daughter will attend us. But what news ? 
What news o' men and men's work ? Is all 

smooth ? 
And Oswald ? Goes he sleekly as of yore ? 
They say he hath high favor at the court 
And with the priesthood. Well, Til tell thee, 

sir, 
A priest ne'er set the fashion o' my liking. 
Why, look you, now, the man hath no more 

brawn ! 
Look you — mine arm. I am well gone in years, 
Yet could I twirl this Oswald as a branch, 
A last year's leaf! There's not enough of man 
In him to cast a shadow. Well, well, well ! 
Kings have strange whims. Kings' dreams have 

meanings. Well, 
I know not. But this Oswald. It doth maze 

me — 
I'll say as much to thee — but these strong men 
Do often hanker after weak ones. Ay, 
It is as though they liked the manners, sir, 
Of things that claim protection. How go 

wenches ? 

31 



Who's uppermost ? No Queen as yet, of course ? 

'Twere well there were a Queen. Thou know'st 
the law 

Of marriage. It were well he took a wife, 

Say you ? That's well. Sir, I do bid you wel- 
come. 

My failing eyes have joy in you. Old age, 

Self-honoring, doth ever honor youth. 

Is it that hussy kitchen-wench Elfleda 

Who yet holds sway o'er Edgar? That Eh 
fleda ? 

Not, truly ! What ! so ? Well, well, who would 
think it ? 

Doth she not squint ? Well ! one shall hear such 
tales. 

'Tis all men's business if a king's jade squints. 

Thou'lt tarry with us for a month or so ? 

Nay, now — no nays but mine. If thou couldst 
know 

The joy it gives me to hold speech with thee ! 

It makes mine own youth smell like spring re- 
turned. 

I tell thee, memory hath a ticklish way 

Of riding on a perfume. There's some scent 

Of horse and leather — nay, of grass and steel — 

Nay, but of — well, God wot! of something, 
boy, 

That makes my youth a presence i' the room. 
Come, yield thy promise. 
32 



[Enter Elfreda.] 

Ha, my lass, come hither. 
Give me thy supper-worth o' sweet persuasions. 
This is my daughter, sir ; and this, my pretty, 
Is that Lord Athelwold of whom thy nurse 
Hath no doubt put out fires with telling thee. 
Ath. (aside). Heaven fall on me if this be not 
in truth 
My Lady o' th 1 Lane! 

Elf. (aside). By all the saints! 

Sir Sleepy Eyes ! Now would to all above 
My lips had touched a red-hot searing-iron 
Ere they had wed with his! 

Olg. Come, word it, lass! 

La ! la ! Both stricken dumb ? What's with 

thee, girl ? 
Up with thy chin. 'Tis coyness overdone ; 
None can digest it. Why, my madam glib- 
tongue, 
What's come to thee? 

Elf. I have a dizziness. 

Olg. Sell't for a kiss (kissing her). So, lass — 
go lightly. Up, 
Up with thy head. A welcome for his lord= 
ship. 
Elf. Your lordship — you are — I am — that is, 
we — 
Are very welcome. 

E 33 



Olg. (aside to Elfreda). Out ! Thou art 
bewitched ! 
There is some pixy lodging in thy wimple. 
Thou givest tongue no better than a house-dog. 
Why, out ! Where are thy wits ? 

(Aloud.) Fair sir, the lass 
Hath something that she calls a dizziness. 
'Tis a new gift o' wilfulness. Well, well ; 
She'll tire of it anon. I'll leave ye, sir, 
That ye may find your tongues while I am ab- 
sent. 
Give ye good speed. 

Elf. Nay, father ! 

0/cr Stay, my lord ! 

Why, what the saints, girl ! Pluck me not so, 

lass! 
This coat's an old coat, and doth need respect 
F th' handling. I do say that while ye chatter 
ril look unto the venison. 

jtb. Good, my lord! 

Thou makest way but for regret, since, truth, 
We value thee above thy venison. 

Elf A Y> 

Ay, father ; go not. Let me go ; thou know'st 
I have a knack with venison. 

q/p-_ Why, what's this ? 

(Aside.) Thou arrant baggage ! Thou wee- 
brained ouph ! 
Know you not 'tis a chance ye lose ? Moreover, 
34 




"BY ALL THE SAINTS !" 



Each chance o'erlooked is snapt up by the devil 
To weight the balances against us ! 

(Aloud.) Sir, 
Methinks I smell a smell o' burning meat. 
You know not how a hunter loves his game. 
I am more patient with my spitted venison 
Than e'er was Beelzebub with a roast o' priest- 
flesh. 
Nay, sir — 'tis burning. Naught can hold me! 
Ha ! [Rushes out.] 

Ath. (impetuously). Madam, upon my knees I 
crave your pardon. 
Say but the word, and I am gone o' th' instant, 
Without excuse or farewell. 

Elf. Nay — my father — 

Thou owest him a deference. 

Ath. Did he know, 

His henchman would compel me from his gates. 
Elf. (archly). Would'st have me, sir, usurp his 

henchman's office ? 
Ath. Lady, I swear to thee that mine offence 
Was ignorant ; and yet, could I undo it, 
Sooner I'd leave thee now than have that kiss 
Melt from my memory's lips. 

Elf Sir, you forget. 

Ath. Nay ; I remember. If thou dost for- 
give, 
Let me but touch thy hand in token of it. 
Elf They say we should forgive. 



Ath. Thou art a saint ! 

Elf. No, by my womanhood ! 

Ath. Then thou art more. 

For, by my manhood, thou'rt the very crown 
And top of womanhood ! (Aside.) What do I 

say? 
Ha ! Loyalty, thou hast outgrown thy dress. 
Let me remember how I stand in this. 
(In a cold voice.) Madam, I am beholden to thee 

in all. 
Command me. 

Elf. (aside). Here's a sudden frost ! But now 
He was afire where all is present ice. 
(Aloud.) I thank thee, gentleman. Here is my 
father. 

[Enter Olgar.] 

Olg. So ! Have ye found your tongues ? So ! 
Athelwold, 
Hath she unbended ? 'Tis a pretty sight 
To watch a maid unbend from coyness. Ay, 
'Tis like a young branch springing up again 
From its plucked weight of fruit. Well, well. 

I see, 
I see how 'tis. Come, lead her, Athelwold. 
Thy hand, lass. Come, my venison would al- 
lure 
A ghost to gluttony. Come on, come on. 

[Exeunt.] 
36 



[Enter Frothi.] 

Fro. I like not this — I like not that maid's 

eyes. 
And it was she who ran and laughed to-day. 
Oh, ay ! Though she were thicker sewn with 

gems 
Than a white beach with pebbles, I would know 

her. 
She is too beautiful ; and there's a devil 
But half drowned in her eyes. I like it not. 
She hath a way with her it hath ta'en my lord ; 
She 'th come upon his judgment from the rear, 
And killed his reason with her poniard eyes. 
Ay, ay, I've word of her. I know all England 
Gapes at her beauty. Well, if she were true — 
But truth to one is falseness to another. 
What of the King ? I would I knew her bent. 
Here comes her woman ; I will talk with her. 

[Enter Bertha.] 

Ber. La, sir, is't thou ? 

Fro. Sweet murderess, none other. 

Ber. How ? Murderess ! Be these court man- 
ners ? Murderess ? 
Fro. Why, hast thou not killed Melancholy by 
thine approach ? By my troth, the rogue hath a 
fairer death than he deserves. 

Ber. La, sir ! I've heard tell of how you court 
37 



gallants will talk and talk, and ne'er a meaning 
at the bottom o' a hundred words. 

Fro. And have they also told thee how we may- 
mean and mean, and ne'er a word atop o all this 
meaning ? Ha ? 

Ber. La, sir ! What wilt thou be staring at ? 

Fro. Thou hast a look o' thy mistress. O' 
my word, a copy in brown o' a monstrous fair 
painting. 

Ber. (simpering). They do say I have her walk. 

Fro. And her eyes to an eyelash. 

Ber. (simpering more than ever). I have 
thought it. 

Fro. Do we agree thus early ? Sweet omen ! 
But, being so alike in outward seeming, methinks 
thy souls should resemble also. Are thy invisible 
selves well matched ? 

Ber. Not to be vain, sir, I do think, sir, as how 
my temper be the smoother, sir. My lady will 
have her tirrets. 

Fro. Ay, thine eyes are milder, now that I look 
again. Hath thy lady many lovers ? 

Ber. Ay, sir, to the number that the forest hath 
birds • but they will all be a-singing o' th' same 
tune. 

Fro. And the lady? 

Ber. Why, she hath had mighty love for some 
fourscore and ten, but bath repented her at the 
church door. 

38 



Fro. And the gallants ? 

Ber. Do still be for sighing and wooing. 

Fro. Hang me, if I would not be all for curs- 
ing and swearing! As soon would I tarry a 
maid's second scorning as stay for a wolf to bite 
me twice. 

Ber. Ay, sir, but my lady hath a strange some- 
thing i th' very curl o 1 her eyelashes. Some say 
it doth not proceed from heaven ; but I know not. 
She hath had more wooing and less winning than 
any lady in all England. Oft will she say to me, 
" Look ye, Bertha ; marriage is not for me, nor I 
for marriage, lest it do mightily better mine es- 
tate." And methinks a marriage so to do would 
needs be with the King himself. 

Fro. To wed a king is to better lowliness at 
the cost o' peace. Well, well. Thou hast a 
plump arm. I suspect thee o 1 one other resem- 
blance to thy mistress. 

Ber. How, sir ? 

Fro. Why, i' th' matter o' wooers. Ha ! wilt 
thou be hanging thy head ? 

Ber. La, sir ! I will have great needs o' hear- 
say to keep me discreet. But thy supper, sir, I 1 
fecks, I was sent to bid thee to supper. How 
hast thou twisted me! 

Fro. An thou'll twist me thy lips for a kiss, Til 
ask no more. Come on ! Come on ! I do hun- 
ger equally for kisses and for venison. [Exeunt.] 
39 



ACT III 

Scene i. — A Hall in Olgar's Castle. 

[Enter Frothi.] 

Fro. All goes as I did fear. He hath the fever; 

She in her golden web of tresses sits 

Like some bright spider, and the mesh hath 
snared 

Him and his honor. It is now two moons 

Since he did ride from Edgar on this quest ; 

The King must wax impatient. Oswald's there 

To urge him with Suspicion's venomed spurs. 

Ah, my dear lord, there is some spell upon thee. 

Would I could break it ! Lo, they come to- 
gether ! 

Always together now ! Morn, noon, and night. 

May God take this into his moulding grasp ! 

[Exit.] 

[Enter Elfreda and Athelwold.] 

Elf. (casting herself down). Sing to me, Ath- 
elwold. 
Ath. Nay, give me grace, 

I'm not in singing temper. All's awry. 
I'd make thee but harsh, jangling music, lady. 
Elf. Why, talk, then. 
Ath. On what subject ? 

40 



Elf. Of thyself; 

That doth less tire me than all other topics. 
Of thy fair self, thy battles and thy voyages ; 
Thy exploits, ventures, both by land and sea ; 
Of all thy past, thy hatreds and thy loves. 

Ath. My greatest hatred hath been hating 
Love. 
(Aside.) How hath he ta'en revenge upon me ! 

Elf. What? 

Didst thou say something to thy shoulder ? 

Love ? 
Why hast thou hated Love ? Methinks Heaven 

formed thee 
To be Love's champion. 

Ath. Not I — not I. 

Elf. I say it. Dost thou hear ? And I will 
say it, 
Though thou dost turn from love to hating me. 
Ath. It were as one. 

Elf. Why, what a ravelled mood ! 

Thy humors 1 threads are frayed beyond all pa- 
tience. 
Look, sir — this apple — wilt thou share it with 
me ? 
Ath. Nay, nay. Have done with such cool 
wantonings. 
Eat not ; it vexes me. 

Elf. Why, what will please thee ? 

Ath. Thy lips ! 
F 41 



Elf My lord ? 

Ath. I say thy lips will please me. 

Wilt yield them ? 

Elf. Athelwold ! 

Ath. Ay, feign, feign, feign. 

Thou couldst feign purity on moonlight nights. 

Elf. Wilt thou insult me ? 

Ath. Ah ! have done with feigning. 

Give me thy lips — I will not feign to kiss them. 

Elf. How dost thou mean — I feign ? 

Ath. Why, that thou lovest me ! 

Think'st thou I know not how thou laughest, 

madam, 
When I am turned ? Thou hast the knack 6" 

laughing— 
And with thy maid-servant. 

Elf. I laugh at thee ? 

With Bertha ? Athelwold ! 

Ath. Well, didst thou not ! 

Come, no more feigning. 

Elf. (passionately). If I love thee not, 

Let thy sword kiss my heart as it were wanton. 
Come, sir ! — thy steel ! My heart's a baggage — 

come ! 
No kiss should shame it ! Come ! — thy sword — 

thy sword ! 
Oh, I had never thought to tell thee of it! 
Nay, let me go, 

Ath. I will not let thee go. 

42 



Ay ! this is fate. Why move a finger ? Soft, 
Softly, my falcon! Oh, my pretty one! 
Thou knowest not what thou dost. There, go — 
go— go ! 
Elf. Why wilt thou hide thy face? Why 
must I go ? 
Dost thou believe me ? Hath not my remaining 
To bear thy scorn proved that I love thee ? 

Look! 
I love thee. 

Ath. Nay, I must not look. Away ! 

Lay not thy hand on me. Wilt thou be gone ? 
Nay, nay ; I meant it not. Let me look once, 
But once, and then — Thine eyes ! thine eyes ! 

thine eyes ! 
Ah, they are full of poison to the brim ! 
Drink, Honor — drink and die ! How thou dost 
look! 
Elf. (breathing hurriedly). And thou! — how 

thou dost eat mine eyes with thine ! 
Ath. Is thy soul in them ? 

Elf. Ay ; and my heart, too. 

Ath. Then let me eat them also. There's no 
way 
But that to happiness. 

Elf. But what ? 

Ath. To yield 

Both heart and soul as bribe unto grim Fate. 
There is no morsel that she dearer loves 
43 



Than a big heart served up with honor cold. 
Lookup. No faltering. God's eyes for thine ! 
They could make heaven of hell without a God. 
Say that thou lovest me. 

Elf. I love thee. 

Ath. Ah! 

Again. 

Elf. I love thee. 

Ath. Now again — with eyes, 

With lips, with arms, with body. Come, once 

more ! 
Well say't together — so — 

(Both.) I love thee! 

God! 
Thou'rt mine. I swear it by His vain -taken 

name. 
Mine and none other's. Mine for life, for death. 
Look you — did I die first, to find you false, 
My burning ghost would knaw unto your mar- 
row. 
Elf. Ah, thou dost hurt me ! 
Ath. Didst thou heed me ? Come, 

Kiss me again. When shall we wed? 

Elf. To-morrow ? 

Ath. To-night. 

Elf To-night, then. At what 

dost thou look ? 
Ath. (gazing beyond her, but still embracing 
her). Even at departing Loyalty. 
44 



Elf. (following the direction of his eyes). 
Who's there 
That hath so strange a name? I cannot see 

him. 
Is it some beggar ? 

Ath. Ay ; he begs for grace. 

Elf Thou'rt mocking. 

Ath. Shall I let Dame Fate outmock me ? 

Elf. Look not so far away. Dive in mine 

eyes. 
Ath. What's at the bottom ? Gold ? 
Elf If love be gold. 

Ath. Nay ; dross — when love doth die it turns 
to dross, 
As men to rottenness. 

Elf What words are these ? 

Come, I will close thy lips (striving to coax him). 
Ath. (still holding her off). Close Conscience' 
lips. 
I care not how I prate, so he be silent. 
Elf. Thou hast strange fancies. 
Ath. (coldly). Canst thou come at them ? 

Elf. Nay, sir. Nor at thy love. I see it all. 
Thou hast beguiled an hour with mockery. 
I will be gone, sir, as thou didst desire. 
Ath. Elfreda! 

Elf Oh, what pain is in thy voice ! 

Hast thou some wound I know not of? 

Ath - Ay, child. 

45 



Elf. Oh, let me dress it. Let me comfort thee. 
Death's in thy face. 

Ath. No, sweetheart ; in my heart. 

Well, well — have done. Weep not. Come 

closer — come. 
Kiss me. Thine arms. Pain is the only coin 
Joy doth acknowledge. Never ask to know 
More than thou knowest, save to-morrow, dear, 
When love hath grown like flowers i' th' night. 
Come, let me feel thee. [Exeunt.] 

[Enter Oswald.] 

Ostu. It works ! It works ! My brew doth 
work in truth. 
We'll have a goodly quaffing by the horns 
Of the new moon! 'Twere worth a longer jour- 
ney 
To hear a shorter tale — that 'twere. God's me ! 
Had I as many bones as hath a graveyard, 
I'd count it but as justness did all ache 
Together, an I rode to such a knowledge ! 
Ah ! here he comes again — alone. Fair dreams, 
Fair lord, I have thee in my prayers. Soft — 

soft ! 
I must move softly. I will back o' th' instant 
Unto my jealous mock-queen with this news. 

[Exit.] 



46 



[Enter Athelwold.] 
Atb. Is this to be alive ? Is this to love ? 
Would I were dead with hating life and love ! 
How came this on me ? — on me — Athelwold — 
Who have but used love's name to tickle mirth 
Or lay a wager ? O thou monstrous glutton, 
That feed'st on honor, pride, truth, fealty, all 
Of God in man ! Shall men still call thee love, 
Mocking that god whose name thou hast usurped ? 
What is to love ? Is't to outlive all peace, 
And know thyself a coward to the core ? 
Oh, then, Hate's gentle ; Hate is honest ; Hate 
Hath been untimely born and missed his name. 
Hate should be Love — Love, Hate ; yet they are 

twins ; 
For, loving one thing, we do hate another, 
Perhaps a better. Who would live to face 
Forsaken duty, look upon dead pride, 
And share Fame's mantle with Dishonor ? Nay, 
Let me fight naked at the gates of hell 
With full-armed Sin, ere I do fall so low! 
I will be gone — I will be quit of this. 
Frothi, my horse! Frothi, I say, my horse! 
And yet — her eyes ! Here's manhood ! here is 

valor ! 
Here is a king's friend worthy of a king ! 
And yet her eyes — her eyes — her eyes — her 

eyes — 

47 



They are two flames — they've burned all good in 

me. 
Even them I do but love with a charred soul, 
The cinder of a soul — a star gone out. 
Had he not been a tyrant — Well, 'tis sure 
He hath but his deserts in all of this — 
In all of this he hath but his deserts. 
And yet so kind a friend, so just a king! 
Ay, conscience, speak ! Arise from the dead past ; 
Howl in mine ears ere I be deaf with wishing. 
Oh, Edgar, Edgar ! 

[Enter Elfreda.] 

Elf. My lord, thy wound again ? Pray thee 
be wise. 
Why didst thou leave me ? Come, here is my 

kerchief; 
Wilt thou not be advised ? 

Ath. Ay, by my soul ; 

But wisdom is above me. 

Elf How ? 

Ath. In heaven. 

Look thou : how much may women lack in honor 
Ere they confess themselves dishonorable ? 

Elf. I know not. 

Ath. Verily I know not either. 

Elf. Is this a jest? 

Ath. I'd swear to it in the dark. 

Give me thine eyes. I think thou lovest me. 
48 



Elf. Thou knowest it. 

Ath. How many other men 

Have shared these honors with me ? Art thou 
honest ? 

Elf. My lord, thou knowest that I am. 

Ath. Ay, ay — 

Look to it, then — see that I'm not deceived. 
I am a man gone deep in recklessness, 
And thee the rising flood may also drown. 
Swear to thy truth. 

Elf. I am afraid. 

Ath. Of me, 

Or of the truth ? Come, swear. 

Elf. What — that I love thee ? 

Ath. Ay, swear it. 

Elf. I do swear by all the saints 

I love thee — love thee. Oh, for sweet love's sake, 
Look not so harshly on me. Have I vexed thee ? 

Ath. Not so. Weep not — I love thee ; but be 
true — 
Be true. I will forgive thee anything 
So thou be true. Weep not. Dost thou not 

know 
Men's minds to men are riddles ? How shalt thou, 
A tender maiden, think to read my soul ? 
It were but grewsome reading, trust me, sweet. 
Still do we hanker for what's past our ken, 
Walking with open eyes against the dark. 
How wouldst thou like to be a queen ? 
G 49 



Elf. A queen ? 

Ath. Ay, sweetheart. How if I were King of 
England ? 
How then ? Wouldst love me more ? 

Elf. Nay ; but a queen — 

I would in truth that thou couldst be a king ! 

Ath. Ha ! dost thou ? Wherefore ? 

Elf. Why, I would be queen. 

That is, I think so. Wouldst not make me queen ? 
Think o me in a crown ! Why, I could stare 
An emperor to slavedom ! 

Ath. Softly. 

Elf. Why, 

I'd be a queen o' queens. Nothing should daunt 

me. 
r faith, Fd be familiar with my sceptre 
As nurse with walking-staff, and wear my crown 
As 'twere a sunbeam fallen on my head, 
So lightly would I wear it. Would, in truth, 
Thou wert a king ! 

Ath. I see that, spite o' words, 

Thoudst love me more. 

Elf. Nay ; but to be a queen ! 

Why didst thou think it ? 

Ath. Probably, my sweet, 

Because thou look'st like one. 

Elf. Thou art the prince 

C flatterers, if not the King of England ! 
Do I look so, in truth ? 

5o 



Ath. Thou dost indeed. 

Where is thy father ? 

Elf. Wouldst thou speak with him ? 

I'll call him. 

Ath. Do so, sweeting — stay for this 

(kisses her). [Exit Elfreda.] 

What devil set me to't ? What fiend of speech 
Possessed me that I named the King to her ? 
Accursed Fate, how dost thou scoff at me ! 
Yet, I was sometime honored of myself 
Ere that the god -spark was with self extin- 
guished, 
Quenched by the rising flood of passions furi- 
ous, 
O'er which its guiding light made clear the way. 
Now all is dark. I know not on what rock 
This life of mine will split. 

[Enter Olgar.] 

Ah, dear my lord, 
Can I have word with thee ? 

Olg. Ay, that thou canst. 

What is it ? No evil news from court ? 

Ath. My lord, 

I love thy daughter, and would wed with her. 

Olg. Well come at! Roundly spoken ! Thou 

dost know how to approach a difficulty's quills ; 

how to settle this porcupine conjecture. Stanch- 

ly said. Thou hast gone up in my estimation ; 

5i 



like a high tide on the face of a rock, thou hast 
left thy mark. Am I first in this matter ? 

Ath. The Lady Elfreda knows that beyond 
limits I do lo\ r e her. 

Olg. Well, then— well, then — well, then. 

Ath. I would have thy permission to wed with 
her. 

Olg. As thou hast said. Well ? 

Aih. And shortly. 

Olg. That, too. Well? 

Ath. Naught remains but that I kneel to thank 
thee and receive thy blessing. 

Olg. I know thou wilt make a good hus- 
band. 

Ath. In what respect, my lord ? 

Olg. Why, thou art brave enough to keep thy 
wife gentle, and gentle enough to teach her to 
be brave. Thou art not selfish, as I have no- 
ticed by thy sittings i t\\ sun (when ye twain 
have shared the seat beneath the pear-tree), that 
she might have greater shadow. That thou dost 
fear God is written on thy brow ; and that thou 
dost love the lass is written in thine eyes. More- 
over, by the cleanness o 1 the latter I do know 
that thou hast ne'er been given to much wine- 
bibbing or lolling wi' women. Therefore I do 
tell thee again that my daughter is thine when 
thou shalt claim her, and that my good-will was 
thine ere thou didst ask for it. Go to ! go to ! 
52 



No words. Thou may'st treat me to a deed or 
two by-and-by. [Exit Olgar.] 

Ath. His blessing on my falseness. Well, let 
be. 
It is a creed more easy than 'tis easing. 
Oh, how a treachery to any one 
Doth fill the heart, crowding all pleasures out ! 
And I must face him ; I must meet his eyes ; 
Nay, I must lie to him. O yesterday, 
Fd purchase thee with all my life's to-morrows ! 

[Exit.] 

Scene 2. — A Room. Elfreda and her Nurse. 

Elf. But I do love him, nurse. Thou dost not 
know 
How I do love him ! 

Nut: Tell me of it, then. 

Elf. How can I tell thee ? Thou hast loved ; 
tell me, 
How didst thou love ? Didst thou send sleep 

away 
That thou might'st recollect his kisses, nurse, 
When it was dark ? Didst thou e'er kiss thy 

arm 
That he had kissed it ? Didst thou love his 

doublet — 
The very manner of his shoulder-cloak — 
His sword — his dagger — ay, his shoes — his 
hat? 

53 



Didst thou so love thy love ? Come, tell me, 
nurse. 

Nur. I think 'twas different. I did wash his 
clothes, 
Where thou hadst loved them. 

Elf. Oh, thy dusty mind ! 

Years crumbling over thee have smirched thy 

fancy 
To one pale blur. Canst thou not talk of love 
As I would hear thee ? Come ! how did he kiss 

thee ? 
Loudly, I'll warrant. 

Nur. Ay, a smacked me well ; 

A was no kiss-slicer ; a gave 'em whole. 

Elf Go to ! A kiss should sound no more, 
good nurse, 
Than when two clouds do melt into each other, 
So melt dear loving lips in kissing, nurse. 
There's more of art than instinct in this kissing. 
Be sure o' that. 

Nur. La ! where dost get such wisdom ? 

Elf. Out of the darkness when my mind is light. 
Thou ne'er shalt see so plain the unseen world 
As when the actual world is sunless, nurse. 
Nurse, wilt thou weep when I am wedded ? 

Nur. Nay — 

To bring my lamb ill luck ? Not I ! 

Elf " Why, then, 

What wilt thou ? Wilt thou laugh ? 
54 



Nur. Nor laugh, my lamb. 

That were unseemly as to weep. Content thee, 
I'll bear me decently. 

Elf. Nurse, what wouldst say 

Were he a king ? 

Nur. La! how thou babblest, honey ! 

Elf. But think — Fd be a queen ! Now as I speak 
I feel my crown's sharp gold upon my head. 
To be a queen ! — the Queen of" England — ha ! 
To have Death for my henchman. Listen, 

nurse, 
Did any so much as offend e'en thee, 
I'd straightway proffer thee his stupid head 
For ball to wind thy yarn on ! 

Nur. Bloody talk ! 

Cease, honey, cease ; I like not such wild talk. 

Elf. Ay, but to be a queen ! 

Nur. Why, go to, heart ! 

Thou'rt different. What's thy mood ? 

Elf. Why, all for power. 

O that I were the hewer of my fate ! 
Then should be constellations born for me — 
Well, well, but I do love him. 

Nur. There, that's well 5 

Let kings and queens alone, and talk of love. 

Elf. Yet one might love a king. Hark ! I am 
called. [Rushes out.] 

Nur. Ah, well-a-day ! I dread these clashing 
moods. 

55 



Scene 3. — Athelwold leaning at a table; 
Frothi at his side. 

Ath. Sing, boy ! give out that voice of thine, 
which is as strange a thing in thy short body as 
would be a great thought in a little mind. A 
light song, neither of war nor of love. Canst 
thou sing such ? 

Fro. Ay, master ; there be a song o a gnat, 
Which is in great favor with the cockchafers. 
So: 

" Ho ! gnat on a thistle-puff, whither away ? 
Where to, little fay ? 
I am off to the East, where the God of the 
Day 

Still slumbers, they say. 
But what will you do for to eat and to drink 

Over there, Imp o Ink ? 
Why, Balder's red blood, I will drink it like 
wine, 

Mistress mine, 
And the syllabub clouds that the elfins do 
spatter 

On heaven's blue platter, 
I will breakfast on them. But anon I must fly, 
So good-luck, so good-bye, 
To thee and to thine, 
Mistress mine !" 
56 



Ath. Well sung, gnat on a thistle-puff; I say 
well sung, Imp o 1 Ink. When wrotest that ode 
to thyself, Sir Gleeman ? 

Fro. Master, it hath been told how that an elf 
o' light wrote that with his finger in the dust on 
a grass-blade. 

Ath. Away with thee! Here comes the Lady — 

Fro. How, master ? The lady i' th' song ? 

Ath. No, poppet 5 the Lady Elfreda. And 
'ware lest thy skin suffer for thy soul's good. 
Off with thee. [Exit Frothi.] 

[Enter Elfreda.] 

Sweet one, thou art most welcome. 

Elf. Ay, my lord ? 

Ath. Ay, for I would a long half-hour with 
thee 
Of farewell kisses. 

Elf. How ! Farewell ? 

Ath. Ev'n so. 

I must without delay entreat the King 
To give permission for our marriage. 

Elf. Nay, 

Go not to-day — to-morrow. Wilt thou go ? 
Ath. I must, my sweet. And wilt thou miss 

me, then ? 
Elf I'll take some drug, and sleep till thou art 
back. 
Why must thou go ? 

H 57 



Ath. It is a courtesy 

I owe my King. Tempt me no more, fair blos- 
som. 
One kiss ; one more. Oh, all that's sweet in 

spring 
Lives in thy breath! I would thou wert my wife, 
To go with me. 

Elf. Oh, would I were, beloved ! 

Leave me thy glove, one which thy hand hath 

shaped ; 
I'll think thy hand is in it when 'tis dark. 
Would thou hadst gone and come ! How many 

days 
Divide us from our day of days ? 

Ath. But two. 

I'll founder twenty horses, dear, my love, 
Ere I will disappoint thee. 

Elf. Oh, make haste ; 

And let me have a lock of thy sweet hair 
To weave into my wedding gown. Is't yes ? 

Ath. Why, thou shalt clip me bare as any monk, 
If 't pleasure thee. And thou dost love me ? 

Elf. Ay, 

Out of all order. I am mad o' love, 
My warrior, my lord, my husband — king. 

Ath. (violently, almost fiercely). Not that! 

Elf. How thou didst startle me ! 

Not what ? 
Thou wert so rough. 

53 



Ath. Not that, not that, I say. 

Dost hear ? Not that. 

Elf. Tell me of what thou speakest. 

Ath. Why, of that word thou call'st me. 
Elf Warrior ? 

Ath. No, no ; thou knowest. Trifle not. Thou 
knowest 
That last name thou didst call me. So, so, so. 
Kiss me, forgive me, heed me not. Once more 
Thine arms about my neck ; once more ; once 

more. 
Give me thy troth again. Swear thou'lt be 
true. 
Elf. I swear it. 

Ath. It is written. Recollect 

It is recorded. Now for all — farewell. [Exit.] 
Elf. Why should he tremble when I call him 
king ? 
There's something here beyond me. Let me 

see. 
I'll put it by ; I will not think on it. 
I'm glad his kisses stir me. Why, T faith, 
Should that one word so harry him ? Well, 

well! 
He hath the sweetest eyes ! So deep a blue 
Should almost dye his tears. The sweetest lips ! 
He would be perfect if he were — a king. 
59 



ACT IV 

Scene i. — A Room in the Palace. Edgar 
seated moodily. Elfleda at his feet. 

Elfl. Sire, shall I sing to thee ? 
Ed. (mutteringly to himself). There hath been 
time 
To woo ten maidens since he left me. Nay, 
Nay, not a note. Thou'rt worse to chirp than 

birds 
At mating- time. (To himself.) He hath been 

wounded, sure — 
Some dire mischance hath fallen, or perhaps 
He thinks to pay me for my humor. Well, 
We'll see. 

Elfl. I have a song of battle, sire, 

Wherein words roar along the winding lines 
As horsemen pelt along a smoking road. 
I've never sung it. 

Ed. Ay, then, never do ! 

Wilt let me be? (To himself.) One day o' 

grace, and then — 
Then — an he comes not — when he comes — 

Elfl. (coaxingly). Go to ! 

I know thou'dst have me sing. 

Ed. I'll have thee prisoned 

An thou dost further irk me. Go! thy jewels! 
60 



Go bind thy hair ! Go tang thy bracelets ! Go ! 

Do anything save speak to me again ! 

(To himself.) 'Tis in my mind that he will come 

to-day ; 
I dreamt of him last night. 

[Angrily to Elfleda, who fingers his robe.] 
What ! dost thou pluck me ? 
Away ! 

Elfl. There is a sound of horses' hoofs — 
Ed. Where, linnet, where ? 
Elfl. Why, in my unsung song. 

Ed. Have at thee ! 

[Throws one of his bracelets at her.] 
There — take that, and get thee gone ! 
Elfl. (haughtily and with anger). Hurled fa- 
vors are more vile than proffered slights. 
Keep thou thy gold — I'll keep my dignity. 

[Exit.] 
Ed. (looking after her, musingly). There's some- 
thing in the jade preserves my liking, 
Yet she doth try me. Now, an he come not 
To-morrow — Let me see — 'twill be two moons, 
And this one's far awane. Now let me see! 

[Enter Oswald.] 

Ha! Oswald. 

Osiv. Sire, thy recreant knight is come! 

He doth but stay to freshen his attire 
Ere he doth wait upon your Majesty. 
61 



Ed. Bid him come hither as he is. Stay, Os- 
wald. 
How looks he ? 

Os-w. Why, not as your Majesty ! _ 

His brow is smooth, his eyes are lined with 

smiles, 
He doth comport him blithely. 
Ed. Yea? 

Osw. Even s °- 

As though his thoughts fed sweetly on a past 
Known only to himself. 

£d_ Thou never likedst him ! 

Osxv. Oh, him, my lord, himself I always 
liked. 
It was his manner unto thee that galled me. 
Ed. Well, go, and bid him hither. 

[Exit Oswald.] 
O 1 my word, 
The priest in him hath murdered a good knight. 
But he did e'er hate Athelwold. Ay, ay, 
For all he saith not, it is plain as drinking. 

[Enter Athelwold.] 

Ah, friend, good greeting. Why, thou'rt some- 
what pale! 

How's this ? Thy brow is drawn. I have been 
told 

Thou wert in different temper ? 

Atb. A y 3 m y lie § e ? 

62 



Ed. Nay, no " my lieges " — none o' that. Come 
on, 
Give me thy hands, and draw that inner veil 
Which doth o'erhang thine eyes. What news ? 

Ath. Indeed, 

Such news hath been a heavy weight to carry. 

Ed. How ! Heavy ? 

Ath. Ay ! 

Ed. In what way ? Is she dead ? 

Ath. No ; that were better. 

Ed. Better ? 

Ath. (with a sudden effort). Ay! Know, Ed- 
gar, 
That this so vaunted paragon of beauty 
Hath nothing but her father's lands and state 
To cry her fair. 

Ed. Is she not beautiful ? 

Ath. No, as I live ! A little, pale-faced girl. 
Whose gold doth bless her purse and not her 
head. 

Ed. Not beautiful ? 

Ath. Not so much beauty, sire, 

As would make full the pocket of thine eye. 

Ed. That's strange — that's very strange ! Not 
beautiful ? 

Ath. All that is hers of beauty, sire, could hide 
Beneath a freckle. 

Ed. Not a fair shape, even ? 

Ath. A church tower hath more roundness. 
63 



£j t What ! in all — 

In all uncomely ? 

Atb. Ay, to the very quirking of her eyebrows. 
Ed. How by report some women do seem 
beauties, 
Whose grandmothers, perhaps, were fairly nosed! 
Ath. A woman's fair according to her gold. 
Ed. (anxiously). Thou'rt sure thou saw'st her? 
None was palmed on thee ? 
Women are apt contenders in such games. 
Atb. It was the lady's self I saw. 
gj_ Thou'rt sure ? 

How art thou certain ? By what didst thou 
know ? 
Ath. By certain marks report had given her — 
A mole that kissed her upper lip ; a vein 
That spilt its tender blue upon her eyelid 
As though the cunning hand that dyed her eyes 
Had slipped for joy of its own work. 

Ed. (suspiciously). For joy ? 

Atb. Did I say joy? 
Ed. Ay. 

jfa It was scorn I meant. 

Ed. Well, on. 

Ath. She hath such little spots of white 

Upon her finger-nails as foam doth leave 
On stranded shells. 

Ed. (more suspiciously). That sounds not so 
uncomely. 

64 



Ath. Thou shouldst but see it ! 

Ed. Well, go on. 

Ath. And last— 
Upon her shoulder is a tiny redness 
Which could be compassed by the pretty circles 
That paint a moth's wing. Such a mark as 

though 
Nature, completing all, had laid a kiss 
Upon her perfect work. 

Ed. (furiously). Dost dare to mock me ? 

Ath. Mock thee ? 

Ed. Ay, mock me. Dost thou dare to do it ? 

Ath. I do not mock thee. 

Ed. Then what didst thou mean 

When thou didst say " upon her perfect work ?" 

Ath. Oh, 'twas in mockery, but not of thee. 

Ed. Of what then ? 

Ath. (with an effort). Of the one I did de- 
scribe. 

Ed. (sullenly). Jests with my humor do as ill 
accord 
As gay-hued flowers with the dead. I wonder 
That thou hast ta'en that turn with me to-day, 
Of all days. 

Ath. I will jest no more. 

Ed. (in part appeased). Thou'rt wise 

Above most jesters, who will seldom stop 
Until that anger trips their heels. But speak ; 
How earnest thou so to lag ? 
1 65 



Atb. I fell asleep 

While riding slowly — a dear trick o' mine — 
And also from my horse, thus broke my leg, 
Which same is yet an enemy to speed. 

Ed. (suspiciously). Hum ! 

Ath. Didst thou speak ? 

Ed. (controlling himself). But inwardly. 

dtb' In truth, 

Would thou hadst gone thyself. 

Ed. For why ? 

Ath. For that 

Thou mightst have been thyself's own disap- 

pointer. 
It was a sorry office, Edgar — ay, 
From first to last, and makes me hug my sins 
To know Heaven cannot honor me with er- 
rands ! 

Ed. (somewhat ashamed of his doubts). Tut ! 
I am not ungrate fid. 

Ath. Then methinks 

Ingratitude hath been baptized again 
Since my departure. Give his latest name. 
What! I do go on this soul-irking mission, 
Ride day and night, endure in divers ways, 
Haste back in spite o' pain and storms, and then 

Am suppered on a frown ? Oh, it is well ! 

Most well, most princely ! 

Ed. (suddenly coming forward). Tut ! I'll bear 
with thee. 

66 



Let's make a duty of forgetting. More ! 
Report is killed, and stuffed with his own lies. 
We'll roast him at the fire o' friendship. Come! 

[Exeunt.] 

[Enter Sigebert and Frothi.] 

Sig. She's uncomely, you say ? 

Fro. As what's left o' my great-grandam. 

Sig. Why, how, then, came all these reports of 
her beauty ? 

Fro. Along the great highway where the Le- 
vite, Falsehood, doth pass Truth by on the other 
side. She hath moneys. Gold is a specific for 
the removal o' homeliness. For each gold piece 
a maid getteth there doth disappear a freckle. 
Four hundred marks will make a Grecian nose 
out o' a pig's snout. Thou wilt find that a big 
mouth doth shrink with wealth, like a doublet 
with washing. Thou shalt find old age double 
on herself like a hare, do thou but line her warren 
with gold. 

Sig. But it is so generally accredited. There 
is no man in England but hath heard of it. Tis 
the fifth gospel. Be serious. The lady is plain? 

Fro. As thine own nose. 

Sig. Go to ! Is she cramped in stature ? 

Fro. Thou wouldst take me for a giant an we 
walked together. Yet she is so tricked out in 
an elaborate ugliness that, cut in simple fash- 
67 



ion, 'twould amply gown a hundred fair -sized 
women. 

Sig. I cannot get it from my head that there 
hath been foul play. 

Fro. Then get it by thy heart that there hath 
not. 

Sig. Thou sawest her ? 

Fro. Why, she was the pattern whereby my 
dreams were cut for a sennight, and every night 
would I wake the scullion at my bed's foot with 
crying out to be saved from torment. 

Sig. Still, I like it not. 

Fro. Thou wouldst like it less didst thou see 
her. 

Sig. I see by the roving i' thine eyes that thou 
art hungry. Come, and we will crack a quart of 
ale and this problem together. 

Fro. I'm with you. [Exeunt.] 

[Enter Athelwold.] 

Atb. I cannot bear his eyes. I'll tell him all, 
From start to finish. He shall go with me 
Into the very byways of my sin. 
Yea, by great God, though I do lose his friend- 
ship, 
ril be friends with myself — not one hour more 
Will I endure mine own soul's scorning. Yet, 
To lose her were to lose the way to heaven. 
Heaven ? What is heaven but a priestly bait 



To lure us to their ends, when that hell's whip 
Doth fail to lash us to 'em ? Ay, again — 
And who hath not some unpronounced charm 
That would make swing the opposite poles of life 
And fasten heaven on hell's foundation ? Out! 
What am I who doth rail against the fate 
That binds mankind ? The atom of an atom, 
Particle of this particle the earth, 
That with its million kindred worlds doth spin 
Like motes within the universal light. 
What if I sin — am lost — do crack my life 
Against the gateless walls of Fate's decree ? 
Is the world fouler for a gnat's corpse ? Nay — 
The ocean — is it shallower for the drop 
It leaves upon a blade of grass ? And yet 
To meet his eyes — to feel his hand — to listen 
Unto his words of trust — O God ! O God ! 
I walk unworthily the red-hot ploughshares, 
And am unto my spirit's marrow scorched ! 

[Enter Oswald.] 

Os<iv. Ahem ! 

Ath. (coldly). Sir, didst thou call me ? 

Os-w. Who— I ? 

Ath. Yes. 

Didst thou not speak ? 

Ostv. Not I. 

Ath. Thou mad'st some sound, 

As if to call my notice. 

69 



Oszv. Thoughts, my lord. 

Mayhap I coughed — I have a hoarseness lately. 

Ath. (contemptuously). Ay, very lately — since 
an hour, I think. 

Oszv. What will your lordship come at ? 

Ath. The conclusion — 

Oszv. Well, sir ? 

Ath. (with a sneer). That thou'rt most apt at 
catching cold. 
Give way ! 

Oszv. My lord ? 

Ath. Give way ! I tell thee, monk ; 

It is my humor to ride forth. 

Ostv. My lord, 

I venture to intrude upon your lordship, 
To stay your lordship for a moment longer. 
I've something to return your gracious lordship. 
Even this. 

[Stretches out a long golden hair between 
his fingers.] 

Ath. Dost thou dare jest with Athelwold ? 

Oszv. Nay, o' my word, no jest. As I am 
true, 
It is the finest thread o' thrice-spun gold, 
The daintiest mimic of the spider's floss, 
Spun by old Earth from out her golden entrails, 
That e'er I set mine eyes on. 

Ath. What dost speak ? 

'Ware how thou troublest me. 
70 



Osw. Why, sure, my lord, 

Thou wouldst not have me keep thy gold ? 

Atb. What gold? 

No mummery. Answer. 

Ostu. I will give it thee. 

[Winds it with a quick gesture around and 
around Athelwold's fingers.] 
Atb. Ah, dog ? Thou'lt do it. Thou'lt make 
sport of me ? 
Thou wilt ? Thou wilt ? Ay, do it ! Do it, 

then, 
Pitiful mongrel ! Have I broken thy back ? 
I hope so. [Exit Athelwold.] 

Osnx). (getting with difficulty to his feet). May 
thou be thrice damned for this ! 
God's me ! I am in pieces. Oh, thou upstart ! 
Dog, am I ? Ay, then. Dog, then. And more 

sure 
Upon the scent than e'er thou dreamest. 

[Exit.] 
[Enter Edgar.] 

Ed. I have much wronged myself in wronging 
him. 
The pulse 0' t\v time beats to a feverish measure, 
And men draw in contagion with their creeds 
As babes the germs o' character with their milk. 
Suspicion is by nature vagabond, 
And oft doth change his house. From Oswald's 
breast 

7i 



He crept to my protection. He hath tricks 
Of voice and gesture that are burs for sticking. 
I was more full of them than sheep-dog's coat 
With actual bristles. I am glad, in truth, 
To find my faith again, though 't hath been 

rained on, 
And vow to wear it ever i' the place 
Of more eye-gladdening but less sure-woven gar- 
ments. 
The man himself! 

[Enter Athelwold with head down as though 
brooding.] 

Friend, why so heavily ? 
Ath. (starting). Thou, Edgar ? 
Ed. Ay, myself; this is well met. 

I have good news for thee. First, there is this : 
I am unsaddled of my spleen, good comrade, 
And wax more light-heeled than a colt with joy 
To think myself and England still are queenless. 
Smile I not, sir, unweddedly ? Why, look you, 
The letter o this law doth suit me well, 
And I find " quean " with an " a " more to my 

liking 
Than "queen" with an "e." 

Ath. Yet, I am sorry for't. 

Ed. Cheer, cheer! 'Twas not thy doing. 
Shall we ride 
A-hawking ? Ho, there ! 
72 



Ath. Nay, I would suggest 

Some serious matters to your Majesty. 

Ed. My Majesty forbids that term ; to thee 
I am but Edgar, and my crown a circle, 
Merely a circle, with no further hint 
Of meaning than that to be circular 
Is to be round. 

Ath. What I would say to thee 

Is this : Though Olgar's daughter hath indeed 
So little of the bounty Nature gives, 
Yet is she rich in that which men do filch 
From Nature. I, as thou dost know, am irked 
With owing. Were it not a crafty stroke 
To ask this maiden's hand in marriage, sir, 
Even for myself? No — I will not think on't. 
Her memory comes upon me with a crash. 
Come! Let us go a-hawking. I would rather 
Owe the gold-bearing tree of Grecian fable 
His whole year's fruit than be her debtor in 

love 
Even for a moment. Let's a-hawking — 

Ed. Soft you ; 

This hath mine ear. 

Ath. (wildly). Ay, but thou hast not seen her. 
Why, the mere memory of her lips, my friend, 
Is one with madness. 

Ed. Well, well. Let me see. 

Ath. Ay, couldst thou see ; but come on — I'm 
amort 

K 73 



With thinking on it. Then her eyes — sweet 

saints ! 
Couldst thou but picture them ! 

Ed. Is she so vile ? 

Ath. (dazedly). So vile ? 

Ed. Ay, saidst thou not ? 

Ath. (recovering himself). Oh, ay, indeed. 

I did but wonder that thou questionedst me. 
Most vile — most vile — most vile. 

Ed. Thou sayst it sadly. 

Ath. Yea, doth it not seem sad how ugly maids 
Are friends with Mammon ? Ho, there ! Ho, 

there ! Ho ! 
King Edgar's falcons ! 

Ed. Not so fast, good friend. 

I bulge with this idea — give it again, 
More lengthily. 

Ath. Pray you, forget it. 

Ed. Nay, 

'Tis a sound plan, a sound plan, Athelwold. 
Come, put up with her lips and eyes. Come, 

now ! 
Canst thou not woo her T th' dark ? 

Ath. Oh, please you, 

I'm sorry that I spoke ; giv't no more thought 
Than had I sneezed, or coughed, or torn my 

cloak. 
Let me forget what ought to be forgotten. 
Wilt thou thy gloves ? 

74 



Ed. I tell thee thou'rt a fool 

An thou dost not to pocket with this plan. 
Why, let her wear a mask, go always veiled, 
Keep to her own apartments — anything — 
So we do see the glimmer of her gold. 
Now, be advised. Nay, I command thee. 

Ath. Soft, 

Soft, soft ; remember thou'st laid by thy king- 
hood 
While we're together. Is't a friendly office 
To sell thy friend for so much coinage ? 

Ed. Nay, 

But thine own prospects — thine own ease! 

Ath. Pah ! prospects ! 

To get mine armor dented honestly, 
Owe all men but my King, and die ere age 
Hath set my wits to wagging with my chin — 
These are my aspirations. I've one other. 

Ed. And that ? Come ! give me word — hast- 
en ! And that ? 

Ath. Is to be put complete into my grave, 
Nor leave a child to dare the possible. 

Ed. Go to ! Go to ! 

Ath. Ay, Edgar, thou mayst laugh, 

But I am earnest in this thing. 'Tis writ 
That children shall their parents honor. Yea, 
And I do tell thee, parents owe as much 
Unto the beings they unquestioned bring 
Into this troublous world! 
75 



Ed. What ! serious ? 

Ath. Unto the utmost limits of my nature. 
Edgar, thou hast my full respect in this, 
But do not urge me further. 

Ed. Nay, I will, though. 

This thy respect is easy as a faldstool. 
When the occasion's past, why, thou canst clap it 
Into thy pocket and be off straightway. 

Ath. The occasion for respect unto my mon- 
arch 
Shall never pass. One thing I pray thee, Edgar : 
As thou dost love me, give not overhearing 
Unto that Oswald. He is quick to learn 
The crookings o' men's humor, and hath wit 
That in fine language, as in courtiers' robes, 
Doth dress his peasant soul. 

Ed. I'll note him. Come, 

We can discuss these matters as we ride. 

[Enter a Servant, hurriedly.] 

Ser, My liege, my liege ! the dame Elfleda — 

Ed. Well ? 

Ser. She hath been taken seriously ill ; 
I am sent hither by her women. 

Ed. Well ? 

Ser. She calls for thee ; naught will appease 
her. Sir, 
For God's love, hasten ! 

Ed. Oh, I know her feignings! 

76 



Go on, Fm coming. Athelwold, remain ; 
I will not long be gone. [Exit.] 

Atb. Is this myself? Doth this my haughty 

body 
Consent to hold my present spirit ? Oh, 
Methought this flesh o' mine would have dissolved 
With very loathing of its craven life ; 
Yet this my heart doth thrive on liar's blood ; 
And what hath poisoned peace hath not so much 
As turned a hair of seeming. What ! get children 
To face Perhaps ? What ! men be born of me, 
That the foul river of my veins may flow 
To taint the future with a race of liars ? 
No ! let my sins and me pack one sure grave, 
Nor leave a ghost behind. Yet 'tis not new. 
These tugs with destiny have wrenched the cords 
Of longer friendships — ay, of better friends ; 
And love of woman hath caused hate of man 
Since David sent to bloody death the mate 
Lawful of her whom he unlawful loved! 
And yet to do't, and yet to leave't undone. 
There are her eyes to keep me dauntless ; yet 
His eyes are here to shake that dauntlessness. 
O God, thou knowest that my soul's desire 
Is unto him, the friend of my glad youth. 
Yea, and thou knowest, Satan, the desire 
Of all my throbbing veins is unto her, 
Without whom life were death ; with whom, 

death — life. 

77 



ACT V 

Scene i. — A Room in Olgar's Castle. El- 
freda and Athelwold. 

Elf. Away! thou wouldst not kiss me. 

Ath. I would. 

Elf. I say thou wouldst not. 

Ath. And I that I would, and will. So ! 

Elf. Fie ! A husband for a sennight, and yet 
kiss thy wife ? 

Ath. Wouldst have me kiss another man's ? 
Look ! Thy hair ! 

Elf. What's with it ? 

Ath. 'Tis loose, 'tis falling (pulls her hair down). 
Ah, it hath fallen. 

Elf. Oh, a fig for thee ! More o' thy tricks ? 
Let be — let be — some one comes this way. 

Ath. Where? 

Elf I thought I heard a step. 

Ath. Out on thee ! Thou saidst that to be free 
of my fingering. For what wilt thou let me kiss 
thee through that rip i' thy left sleeve ? 

Elf. For a love - sick boy. There ! Go to ! 
Wait, though. Thou hast something on thine 
eyelash. 

Ath. Thou hast something under thine. 

Elf What? 

78 



Ath. Two devils in blue, which thou dost call 
eyes for want of a better name. 

Elf. Oh, thou art past all reason. But an 
hour gone I was set down by thee as an angel. 
Now thou wilt have't that mine eyes are devils. 
My poor eyes! What have they done that's 
devilish ? 

Ath. Killed content. 

Elf. What ! art thou not contented ? 

Ath. No. 

Elf. Not contented ? 

Ath. No, I say. 

Elf. Not contented ? 

Ath. I tell thee, no. 

Elf. Now, o' my word ! Well — for why, then ? 

Ath. For that I have not been thy husband 
these twenty years. 

Elf Ha! ha! ha! Why, thou hadst had a 
wife in swaddling bands! Ha! ha! ha! I tell 
thee thou'rt out o' all reason. 

Ath. So that I am in thy good graces I care 
not. 

Elf. Well, do not sit on my gown. 

Ath. Pah ! I do honestly think that a wom- 
an's temper is tacked to her gown. Do thou but 
pull her gown a hair's-breadth, her temper flies i' 
thy face. 

Elf That were a pretty roost ! 

Ath. What? 

79 



Elf That nose o 1 thine. Oh, I love thee. 

[Throwing herself into his arms.] 

Ath. I am glad o't, sweetheart. Why so sud- 
denly ? 

Elf. Oh, I know not. For that thou looked at 
me. 

Ath. Now thoif st done it. 

Elf. How? 

Ath. Thou'lt ne'er get me to look away from 
thee. 

Elf. Then so. 

[Covers his eyes with her hands.] 

Ath. (taking down her hands, and with sudden 
seriousness). Look thou — as thou wert on thy 
death-bed. Unto what measure dost thou love 
me ? 

Elf. Beyond the stretch of space. It is as 
though all love since time began were packed 
into the holding of my heart. 

Ath. Wilt thou swear it ? 

Elf. Ay. 

Ath. Wilt thou kneel and swear it ? 

Elf Ay. 

Ath. On my sword ? 

Elf. Ay, on thy sword, thyself, thy love, thy 
God. What! Dost thou doubt me ? 

Ath. No — not thee. 

Elf. What, then ? 

Ath. That this should last. Look thou : I am 
So 



gentle, but milk frozen is hard — ay, hard and 
cold. Were I to doubt thee — 

Elf. Well? 

Ath. All that's now warm would freeze. 

Elf. How strange thou art ! 

Ath. Belike I am. See that thou art true. I 
have given much for thee ; more than thou know- 
est. Let us without. I am an enemy to housed 
air. Come ! [Exeunt.] 

Scene 2. — A Room in Edgar's Palace. 
[Enter Elfleda and Oswald.] 
Elf. Is it not time ? 
Os-iv. Perhaps. 

Elf. I say it is. 

Let not "perhaps" affront me. He'll walk here 
In this same gallery for an hour or so, 
Ere he goes forth to play at quoits. Thou'lt 
speak him ? 
Os--w. 'Tis in my mind. 

Elf. Well, set it free. How long 

Have they been wedded ? 

Or-iv. Full a month. 

Elf. Then speak. 

Here is the King. Thou'lt do it ? 

Osuu. Leave't to me. 

Elf. If thou'lt inflame him, I've an uncut em- 
erald 
Shalt sleep with thee to-night. 

L 8l 



Os^w. I thank thee, madam. 

Leave him to me. 

Elfl. Nay, wait. Hast thought it over ? 

What is thy speech ? 

Os-iv. My wit shalt be the prompter, 

I know not. Leave't to me. He's here. 

Elfl. Remember. 

[Exit Elfleda.] 

[Enter Edgar.] 

Ed. My falcons ! ho, my falcons! (Seeing Os- 
wald.) There, sir ? Come, 
Foot it awhile. Nay, I'll not ride a-hawking. 
I have bethought me of an irksome stiffness, 
Caught yesterday while sleeping. Gods ! I am 

weary 
Of everything ! 

Osxv. Now, if Lord Athelwold 

Were here, my liege. He doth so know your 
humor. 
Ed. Ay ; but he's sick o' love, as I of nothing. 
Os-tv. What ! is love nothing ? 
Ed. Ay, Sir Priest, to you, 

Or should be. I will have my falcons, now 
I've thought of it again. Would Athelwold 
Were here, in truth ! There's Metal, my good 

monk ! 
A sportsman to the edges of his nails. 
Would love were done with him ! 
82 




"remember" 



Ostv. Your Majesty — 

Ed. Well? Well? 

Ostv. You were not e'en deceived in aught — 
But no, I will not say't. I fear your wrath 
May strike the tree ere that its fruit be ripe. 

Ed. What tree ? What fruit ? 

Os'iv. The tree o' my dear duty 

Unto your Majesty ; the fruit of loyalty. 

Ed. This hath been taken from an unpreached 
sermon, 
Hath't not, good Oswald ? Tis too fine for me. 
I like your downright speech that pelts like hail, 
Or flies like chips beneath the sharp axe-blows 
Of some keen mind against the Tree o' Knowl- 
edge. 
That tree I've heard of, but the tree o' duty 
My woodcraft knows not. Come ! Deceived, 

thou saidst. 
What of deceived ? 

Os'iv. Oh, 'twas a thought. 

Nay, Til be brave in this ; I'll not dissemble, 
Even though my truth should prove my death. 

Your Majesty, 
There have been tales of late. 

Ed. Well, on ; what tales ? 

Hast thou yet tried that new -marked tennis 

court ? 
But of these tales ? 

Osn.u. 'Twill hit your heart-ribs, sire. 

83 



Ed. Well, word it. As we talk of ribs, Sir 
Monk, 
There is a boy in Essex, they do say, 
Can crack an ox's ribs in one arm-crotch. 
If this be true, we'll have him brought to Court. 
But of these tales ? 

Osiv. Belike, sire, I do irk you ; 

They touched on one your Majesty well loves. 

Ed. Ha? 

Osxv. Ay, my liege. 

Ed. On whom ? 

Os-iv. On Athelwold. 

Ed. On Athelwold ? 

Osxv. None other. 

Ed. Pah! more lies. 

Well, what is it they say ? 

Oszv. Oh, sire, belike 

It is but lies. I do regret me much 
Of having spoken. 

Ed. Nay, what is it ? 

Osuu. Sire, 

I fear thou wilt blame me for blaming him. 
Yet 'tis not I who blame him ; I did hear't 
From — 

Ed. Ay, ay ; from whom didst thou hear it ? 

Ostv. Why, 

Frothi, the page of Athelwold, doth talk 
Sometimes in's sleep. But saints ! All of us 
know 

84 



A sleepy tongue doth give but crooked mean- 
ing. 
I trust no man will ever judge me, sire, 
By th/ words I speak in sleep. 

Ed. What said he ? On, 

On ; thou dost know my temper. What said 
he? 
Oszv. Oh, he let fall some broken words. In- 
deed, 
Indeed, your Majesty, urge me not to't. 
'Tis an ungracious office at the best, 
To smirch the soul's gear of an absent man. 
Ed. Nice scruples lately learned, good Oswald. 
Come, 
Give me these rumors. 

Oszv. Rumors ? 

Ed. Ay, ay, ay — 

These rumors — words — sleep-tellings — I care not 
How thou baptizest them. The words — the 
words. 
Os-zv. I cannot now recall them but in frag- 
ments. 
Ed. The fragments, then — the fragments. 
Os-zv. Well, for one, 

He said — 

Ed. Go on — go on. 

Oszv. As I recall it, 

He said some such like words (I pray you grace 
If I do hesitate, but 'tis my wish 
85 



To be in all things just). The words were 

these : 
" She is too beautiful." Yes, that was it. 
Twice o'er he said it : " She's too beautiful." 

Ed. What she ? 

Ostv. I know not. That is what Fd know. 

Ed. God's eyes ! Is this thy wondrous tale ? 
Dost know 
This hath the sister look to impudence? 
Why, out of question, 'twas some comely wench 
The boy had dreamed of kissing. Look you, 

priest, 
I've ne'er brooked lightness ; shall I brook it now 
My heart is heavy ? 

Os-w. Sire, this was not all. 

Ed. Not all ? Go on. 

Osiv. He next did cry aloud, 

" This fair Elfreda — " 

Ed. Ha ! 

Os-w. "This fair Elfreda 

Hath mischief in her eyes !" — no — wait — 

Ed. How no ? 

How no? Said he not that? Have care — have 
care. 

Ostv. Not that precisely. It was, so I think — 
" This fair Elfreda hath — " 

Ed. Elfreda ? 

Os-w. " Hath 

A devil in her eye." Yea, that was it. 
86 



Not "mischief" — "devil" — 'twas this "devil," 

sire, 
Did puzzle me. 

Ed. This " fair Elfreda?" 

Oszv. Ay, 

Fair was the word. 

Ed. Well, well ; and if it was, 

There may be ten Elfredas known to him. 
Well? 

Oszv. Ay, there may. 

Ed. Was this all ? 

Oszv. Good, my lord, 

Let this vext matter sleep. 

Ed. Thou know'st me not, 

Or else too well do know me, when thou speak'st 
Of pausing here to let the scent grow cool. 
Come, was there more ? 

Osw. Ay, sire, one sentence. 

Ed. Well, sir ? 

Oszv. He saith, " Old Olgar favors it." 

Ed. "Old Olgar?" 

Oszv. " Else might I hope — " 

Ed. Olgar ? 

Oszv. As I do live. 

Ed. Thou damned, blue-jowled, sleek, crown- 
shaven monk ! 
Thou hast invented this ! Ay, to my foot ! 
What ! thou will come and tongue my best-loved 
friend, 

87 



And think thy throat in safety ? Know, thou 

liar — 
Liar and coward — that Lord Athelwold 
Is set as high above thy power to hurt him 
As God's throne over mine ! 

Osiv. How, sir — how, sir — 

Wilt murder me for following my duty ? 

Ed. Duty ? It is the most ill-used word 
That ever lent excuse unto a crime ! 
Duty ? Thy duty ? Give me honest sin, 
And 'twill show fair beside such duty ! 

Osxv. Sire — 

Ed. Speak not to me ! What ! thou didst 
dare— O God ! 
Wilt thou endure the service of a hound 
That I, a mortal king, do spit upon ? 
What ! this of Athelwold ? To me ? To me ? 
And thou still there ! 

Osiv. Sire, there is more than this. 

Ed. Name but his name, and with my very 
hands 
I'll tear thy tongue out. Dog! Begone! begone! 
Out o' my sight ! [Exit Oswald.] 

Oh shame, that I have listened 
Unto such treachery ! I have been trapped — 
Trapped like a fox, and with a fox's cunning. 
Ay, ay, thou nimble-witted liar thou ! 
Ay — for thou art a liar — naught else were pos- 
sible. 



Thou shalt hear more o 1 this ! To come to me, 

Thy King, with this the scrapings o 1 the dish 

Of thy fat envy j lies so like the truth 

That one less sure might well have been ensnared. 

And yet, though I myself am most assured, 

I owe it unto him to prove him true. 

This bag o' spleen, this Oswald, this cowled 

Satan, 
Shall not be pleased with noting my displeasure. 
What, ho, there ! ho, there ! ho, there, Oswald! 

Osxv. Sire, didst thou call ? 

Ed. Art thou a fool, Sir Priest, 

As well as knave ? Stand there — no nearer — 

there ! 
Thou think'st belike that thou hast proved the 

falseness 
Of my Thane Athelwold ? 

Os-iv. Nay, sire. 

Ed. Thou dost, 

Liar, thou dost. By Heaven ! it gives me joy 
To think how thou wilt writhe to find him true. 
I'll prove his truth before all England. Ay, 
And then I'll give them word of the fair part 
Thou didst unto him. (Laughs.) Dost thou 

hear, Sir Priest, 
I long to see thee. Thou shalt ride thyself 
And bid him hither. Dost thou hear? Away, 
And bid him hither o 1 the instant ! 

[Exit Edgar] 
M 89 



Os-uu. (looking mockingly after Edgar as he 
goes out). Sire, 

Thy gentle order shall be straight fulfilled. 
Most noble Edgar, most beloved monarch, 
Most, gentle, courteous, kind, and just of kings, 
Such pleasure doth it give me to obey 
Thy sweet commands that I'll not even tarry 
To spur me, but will ride cowled as I am 
To bid him to thee (laughing) — ay, to bid him 
to thee. [Exit Oswald.] 

Scene 3. — Another Room in the Palace. 
[Enter Edgar, followed by Elfleda.] 
Ed. 'Twill be some time before they come. 
Sit— sit. 
A woman's foot-sound is a galling thing 
When all thy soul's awry. Sit down and sing ; 
Thou'rt ever ready with thy singing. 

Elfl. Well, 

What shall I sing? (Aside.) It works ! It works ! 

Brave Oswald, 
Thou shalt a bishopric for this ! (Aloud.) My 

liege, 
What song wilt have ? 

Ed. Why, any ; I care not— 

I care not. Madam, tell me, didst thou e'er 
Hold speech with Frothi, page to Athelwold ? 
Elfl. Ay, sire, an honest boy. He was well 
liked 



At court, though I have heard the scullions say 
He was a noisy bedfellow. What song 
Didst thou name, sire ? 

Ed. Noisy ? How, noisy ? 

Elfl. Noisy ? 

There's no such song I know of. Oh, I see ! 
Thoif rt still on the Thane's page. Oh, noisy, 

sir, 
Like most boys in their sleep : hard breathing, 

restless, 
Given to mutterings — one o' your sleep-talkers. 
Ed. Sleep-talker ? Did they call him that ? 

Sleep-talker ? 
Elfl. Ay, 'twas the word. But thou'st not 

named a song. 
Ed. Oh, any, woman ! (Aside.) Hum ! sleep- 
talker ! — hum ! 
This looks as though they had all this concocted 
Between themselves. Oh, I will be suspicious 
Of mine own lineage and legitimacy 
Ere I misdoubt his littlest action. Yet, 
If he were false, 'tis in my soul to hate 
Unto the measure that I love ! False ? Pah ! 
I shame myself to even so much as name it. 
Elfl. Thou dost not wish a song, then ? 
Ed. Ay, a dozen, 

A dozen, so thou'lt leave me to my thoughts. 
Choose anything and sing it. Sing — sing — sing. 
[Throws himself upon a settle.] 
9i 



Elfl. (sings) : 

The fen-crickets chatter, 
The marsh-owls whoo. 
Now what is the matter ? 
Speak one ; speak two. 
" Oh, the elves are here, 
And much we fear 
They will kill our bairnies 
For lack o 1 cheer!" 

The elves are nimble, 

The elves are quick ; 

The fen-crickets wimble, 

The owls wax sick. 

Soft, now ; give ear : 

I much do fear 

They killed those bairnies 

For lack o' cheer ! 

Ed. As damp a song as e'er I heard. Methinks 
One might catch cold by listening to such songs ; 
The very marsh air's in it. Dost thou know 
A healthy song with more o' sunshine in't ? 
Hark, there ! You, madam — you. Canst not be 

quiet ? 
Oh, how these women's dresses shriek withal 
When thou wouldst most be still ! That voice I 

heard — 
I could have sworn 'twas Athelwold's ! 
92 



[Enter Athelwold and Oswald.] 

Why, friend ! 
God save thee ! There is magic in this speed. 
How got'st thou here in such short time, my 
Thane ? 
Ath. Why, Oswald, sire, did meet me at thy 

gates. 
Ed. My soldier ! Saints ! but I am glad to 
grip thee ! 
Come, both thy hands. Sir Monk, remain. 

Look, Brother, 
Thou'rt come at a good time. 'Twill be but 

just 
That I do now return thy visit. Ay, 
Stare not upon me. Thou there, sir, go not. 
I purpose, Athelwold, to honor thee 
By visiting thy castle. Ay, to-night 
I'll sup with thee and with thy lady, man ; 
This very night. 

Ath. Sup with me ? 

Ed. (impatiently). Ay — ay — ay. 

You started ! 

Ath. 'Twas for pleasure — 'twas for pleasure. 
Ed. Pale, too? 

Ath. No — am I pale ? 

Ed. (apprehensively). Ay — smooth thy brow, 
Put on a bolder air. I'll tell thee all. 
Shake off that look — that look. 
93 



Ath. Thoult sup with me ? — 

To-night ? 

Ed. (with amazement and a sort of shamed sor- 
row). Ay — still that look. 

Ath. It is an honor 

Past my deserving. 

Ed. Tush ! That game to me ? 

Go to ! go to ! 

Ath. Sire, if thou couldst but tarry, 

But give me time to offer thee a welcome 
Worthy thy state and majesty. 

Ed. What! this 

From Athelwold to Edgar? Majesty? 
State ? Thou to me— of state and majesty ? 
Am I not welcome ? 

Ath. Welcome ? Oh, indeed, 

To th 1 utmost. But my wife ! It doth seem just 
That she be warned, so that she may prepare 
Such welcome as her woman's vanity 
Would joy to offer. 

Ed. Why, I say, have done. 

I'll come in such old trappings, good my Thane, 
As will put ceremony out of place. 
Yet, if thou'dst do't, ride on, and I will follow. 

Ath. (going.) Then I will go o' th 1 instant. 
Short farewell. 

Ed. Why, rest thee, man. What is thy haste ? 

Ath. None — none — • 

None, o' my word. ^ 

94 



Ed. (watching his nervous movements). Why, 
art thou restless ? 

Ath. Who ? 

I ? Em not restless. 

Ed. But thine eyes ! 

Ath. Look, sire : 

Why hast thou kept the priest ? 

Ed. Oh, for a whim. 

He frets thee ? Bid him hence. 

Ath. (to Oswald). Away with thee ! 

Osiv. Your lordship's will in all. 

[Exit Oswald.] 

Ath. (looking after him and speaking between 
his teeth). Obsequious hound ! 

I see thy part in this. 

Ed. What's that thou saidst ? 

Speak out. 

Ath. Mere habit ; I but thought aloud. 

Edgar, why wilt thou keep this fellow near thee? 

Ed. I keep him not. A sly knave. 

Ath. A sly devil. 

Ed. I think so. 

Ath. And I know so. Would to God 

I were thyself but for a heart-beat ! 

Ed. Why ? 

Ath. To have him strangled. But if thou dost 
purpose 
To sup with me to-night — 

Ed. I'm set on it. 

95 



Ath. Then pray you grant that I set forth at 
once. 
My wife will blame me — 

Ed. What ! so soon submissive ? 

Ath. Ay, ay. 

Ed. A shrew, then ? 

Ath. No — that is — in truth, 

A vixen. 

Ed. My poor Athelwold ! cheer, cheer. 

I have most dearly sold thee. Well, away, then. 

Ath. I thank thee. [Exit.] 

Ed. If he hath deceived me — Ho ! 

My falcons ! there ! without there ! If in truth 
He hath deceived me — Nay, I will not think it. 
My falcons ! [Exit.] 

Scene 4. — A Room in Athelwold's Castle. 
Elfreda playing with her dog. Nurse spin- 
ning. 

Elf. Now, sir, up, up ; sit up, I say ; sit up ; 
And when I call the name of Athelwold 
Give tongue. Now, sir ! I 1 faith, sir, dost thou 

know 
That he, thy lord and mine, Thane Athelwold 
(Speak, sir!), comes home to-night ? Well done! 

well done! 
Well done! Nurse, mark him now. Say Ath- 
elwold, 
And see how loyally he greets the name. 
96 



Nur. What! Athe] wold — plain so. Well, I 

have said it. 
Elf Lord, Lord, nurse ! how thou dost out- 
patience me ! 
How shall the poor beast guess thy meaning, 

nurse, 
When thou dost say't without a spark o' mean- 
ing ? 
There, go, sir ! — down ! He answered fast 

enough 
When I spoke. Look you, nurse. Let's have a 

game 
O' love-making. Look ; thou shalt be the gal- 
lant, 
I'll be thy lady. Oh, so much I'm won 
That to be wooed again will seem most sweet ! 
Come, nurse. Now, nurse — good nurse. Come 
on ; come, nurse. 
Nur. La, honey ! what wilt have ? Me be a 
gallant ? 
La, in my kirtle ! 

Elf. Oh, we'll feign the doublet. 

Now, nurse, down on thy knees ! 

Nur. Oh, please you, lamb, 

I am so twinged with gout that e'en to God 
I ease the distance with a footstool. 

Elf Well, 

Here's one. Now kneel, and I will flout thee. 
Nur. So— 

n 97 



Ugh ! My poor limbs ! Ugh, honey ! I do creak 
Like some old gate. 

Elf. Well, never mind the creaking. 

Woo ! Woo ! 

Nur. O Lord, this is a sorry game ! 

How shall I woo ? 

Elf. Why, take my hand — dart fire 

With both thine eyes — or one. Oh, as you 

please. 
Say, " Fairest lady, I am dying for thee !" 

Nur. I am, indeed. 

Elf What ? 

Nur. Dying for thee. Oh ! 

Both legs are fast asleep. 

Elf Away with thee ! 

Get up. I'll be the gallant, and woo thee. 
Now see how't should be done. " Most gracious 

lady, 
Upon my knees I do implore, beseech, 
One gracious smile! Oh! oh! I swoon, I die 
Because of thy rare beauty." 

Nur. La, go to ! 

Elf " Thy lovely eyes, thy beauteous nose, thy 
lips 
So like to cherries." 

Nur. Oh, have done, thou mischief! 

Thou'dst been a lad, I'll warrant thee ! 
Let me unto my spinning. 

Elf Well, go on, 



Goon. I care not if thou 'rt peevish. Nurse, 
Where's my lord's armor ? 

Nur. Safely put aside, 

As he did bid me. 

Elf Sweetest nurse, I know 

Thou lovest me. 

Nur. What now ? 

Elf Only his helmet. 

I have such yearning to try on his helmet. 

Do, nurse ! Look, I will kiss thee. There! and 

there ! 

Nur. Well, well. I verily believe, my lamb, 
Thou'dst coax St. Peter to give up the keys 
That thou mightst rummage heaven. 

Elf And, nurse — 

Nur - Ay, honey ? 

Elf His sword, nurse. Just his sword and 
helmet, nurse. 
Do hurry, nurse. I'll see thou getst no blame. 

Nur. Well, well. I'll humor thee. [Exit.] 

Elf How long she tarries ! 

[Re-enter Nurse, with Athelwold's helmet.] 
Ah, sweetest nurse, here is thy kiss ; and now 
Give me the helmet. Ah, 'tis heavy — 

Nur. Ay, 

'Tis heavy, that I'll vouch for. 

Elf Look you, nurse, 

I must his shield for mirror. 

99 



Nur. Oh, go to! 

Well, then — thou must, then. 

[Exit, and returns with shield.] 
Here! 
Elf. Oh, is't not bright! 

Now, nurse, look I not like a warrior ? 

[Enter Athelwold.] 

Ath. Ha, my sweet warrior ! Gods ! how fair 
thou art ! 
Come, kiss me — kiss me — kiss me. 

Elf. Madam Nurse, 

Thou canst unto thy spinning now. 

Nur. (in a hurt voice). Oh, ay — 

Oh, ay — I warrant thee. Now he is come, 
Thy old nurse is as nothing. [Exit.] 

Ath. Pray thee, dear, 

Say some kind word to her. She's old, and loves 

thee 
Above her hope of heaven. 

Elf. Not I, good sooth ! 

She is too peevish, and expects too much. 
I care not to bestow where gifts are looked for. 
Fair sir, how seem I in thy helmet ? 

Ath. Why, 

A maiden knight in verity. Elfreda, 
Dost love me less or more than yesterday ? 

Elf. More. 

Ath. Art thou sure ? 
ioo 



Elf. Sure ? Oh, ay, sure enough. 

Show me to swing thy sword — how is it ? 

Ath. Nay, thou dost not love me as thou didst ! 

Elf. Why, yes, 

I do — I said so. Are all swords so long 
As this one ? Ugh ! 'tis heavy. 

Ath. Ay, 'tis heavy. 

Heart of me, cease from play. I need thee more 
To-day than I e'er needed thee. 

Elf. What for ? 

Is't that old wound ? 

Ath. Ay, that old wound, my wife. 

Come, sweet, and sit beside me. Thou shalt 

listen 
Unto a story such as thou dost love, 
Of strange and curious happenings. 

Elf. A love story ? 

Ath. In most a hate-story ; but cheer, my heart, 
There's love in it — ay, there is love in it. 

Elf. Well, tell me. 

Ath. Sit where I can see thy face. 

There — that is well. There dwelt in Christen- 
dom — 

Elf. Oh, specify, or I care not to hear it. 
Name town and country, knights and masters all. 
Even to the dragon — if there be a dragon. 

Ath. Well, well, love, as you will. There was 
a knight 
Dwelt in the town of London. A stanch knight, 
101 



Who loved his king, and was by him beloved. 
His name was — Osric, and he loved the king. 

Elf. And the king's name ? 

Ath. Geffry. 

Elf. Methinks the knight 

Was fairer christened. Canst not change the 
names ? 

Ath. No, no ; no matter ; let me on. The 
king — Geffry — 

Elf. Now, why not call him Osric, dear, 

An't pleases me ? 

Ath. Oh, Osric, then, the king. 

Osric the king did one day seek his knight, 
Sir Geffry, and did tell him how report 
Had come to him of a most beauteous maiden, 
Who dwelt in Warwickshire — a maid so fair 
All England was most rich in rumors of her. 

Elf. Why, that's like me. 

Ath. Ay, 'tis. Geffry the king — 

Elf. Osric, my love. 

Ath. Osric, I mean — did urge 

That Geffry should unto the maiden's home 
To find if she were fair as men did say. 
For if she were, he, Osric, did intend 
To wed her, and to make her lawful queen 
Of England. 

Elf. Oh, most lucky maid ! Her name? 

Ath. Edwitha. Now, although in truth the 
knight 

102 



Liked not the office, yet, since he loved his king, 
He did put pride away, and straight set forth 
For Warwickshire. There being arrived and 

welcomed, 
He found the maid so far above his wildest, 
Most wine -helped dreams of beauty that from 

wondering 
He stepped to loving her. 

Elf. To loving her ? 

Ath. To loving her, until there seemed no part 
Of mind, soul, body, honor, left uneaten 
Of this most ravenous love. He worshipped her. 
She was his god, his heaven, his hope of heaven, 
His king, his queen, his pride, his truth, his all. 
So fused in this fierce fire were pride and faith 
That to divide them, make them twain again, 
Were unaccomplishable ! He had bought 
One of her kisses with a life of shame ; 
One year with her by twenty years in hell. 
There was no limit to his recklessness, 
No bound unto the blasphemy and woe 
He would have dared to win her. 

Elf. And the maid ? 

Ath. He thought she loved him. 

Elf. Well, go on, go on. 

Ath. He thought she loved him. Twenty 
thousand times 
She swore she loved him. Looks and lips and voice 
All said she loved him. 

103 



Elf And he ? — he ? 

Atb. He y ielded 

To this most perfectly devised temptation 
E'er set by Baal to trap a soul to ruin ! 

Elf. Yielded? 

Atb. Ay, yielded. Canst thou credit it ? 

Yielded. Forswore his manhood, honor, king, 
All that makes sleep a friend or night endeared. 

Elf. And she was never queen ? 

Atb. Never ! 

£lf Oh, shame ! 

He was most foul of heart ! 

j t lj m Foul is thy heart 

To say his heart was foul ! O woman, woman, 
Wilt thou judge man ? Will ye, whose veins 

are ice, 
Pronounce upon the passions of the men 
Who melt ye but can never kindle ye ? 
Away ! away ! thou thing of snow. The fire 
Of love would make ye but a puddle ! Oh, 
That ye should dare to call me foul of heart, 
Whose damning hath been lawless love of 

thee! 
Out on ye, lips! Out on ye, eyes, hair, hands, 
That have destroyed me ! 

Elf Dost thou speak to me ? 

What have I done ? 

Atb. What hast thou done ? O God, 

Did Lucifer perchance so question thee 
104 



•>> 



... i 



-sa 




hi 




"DOST thou speak to me? what 
HAVE I DONE ?" 



Ere he was cast from heaven ? What done ? — 

what done ? 
No, no ; I am not yet a beast in all. 
My heart hath split with this. 

Elf. Nay, Athelwold, 

How could I know thou spokest of thyself? 
Ath. Thou shouldst have felt it. Oh, hadst 
thou e'er loved me, 
My face had been an open book to thee. 
What! Thou didst think it all mere idle talk! 
Elf. As I do live, I thought so. 
Ath. Kneel and swear. 

Elf (kneeling). By all in heaven I swear it. 
Ath. Wait! I choke. 

Pray thee, undo my collar. 

Elf. Athelwold ! 

Athelwold ! Look at me. Dost thou believe 
me ? 
Ath. Ay 5 but 'tis too much joy. Thy leave 
awhile. 
Let me lean so. There, do not touch me. Ah ! 
That's better — that is better. Do not touch 

me — 
Not yet. 

Elf. How couldst thou think I meant it? Oh, 
The gentlest men are cruel when they love ! 
Ath. Right hadst thou to reproach me. I'll 
not budge 
To vindicate mine error. Oh, my beauty, 
o 105 



My untamed hawk, my fierce, soft-footed tigress, 
Come, set thy talons in me ! Come, despatch ! 
Rend me in pieces, so thou dost but touch me ! 

Elf. How thou dost love me ! 

j t fr_ Ah ; and even thou — 

Thou dost not know to what extent. Again! 
Tell me again thou didst not mean it. 

Elf W hy, 

Thou knowest that I did not. 

Atb. Wel1 ' a § ain — 

Again— again. O lips, I cry ye pardon! 
Sweet hair, sweet eyes, sweet hands, sweet throat 

—all, all, 
I cry ye grace ! Nay, stretch not in mine arms, 
Lest I do crush thee for thy very sweetness! 
But, heart, to reason. Darling, there's no time 
To lose 'twixt now and nighttide. 

£[f How dost mean ? 

Ath. Edgar hath been informed. That knave, 
that Oswald, 
Hath told him all. To-night he purposes 
To sup with us. 

Elf To-night ? 

j t fo Ay, this same night. 

Elf What must I do ? 

At jj^ I've thought upon it, heart. 

There is one way, one only way to save us. 
Elf And that, my lord ? 

jl t j, m That is for thee, my wife, 

1 06 



By some disguise, some stain on thy fair skin, 
Some awkward combing of these graceful tresses, 
To mar this fatal beauty which hath ruined me. 

Elf. Make myself ugly ? 

Ath. Ay, as ugly, sweet, 

As one so fair can look. 

Elf And let the King 

Think that I'm hideous ? 

Ath. In truth, my heart, 

The more he thinks thee hideous, the better 
Thou'lt find some way. Come, we will ask thy 

nurse ; 
She will assist thee. Swiftly, swiftly. 

[Exeunt.] 

A Glade in the Forest. 

[Enter Edgar and Frothi.] 

Ed. Well, boy, how lik'st thou to be mis- 
tressed ? 
Fro. Sire, 

Had she not such a beak, I'd love her well 
For t\\ gold that lines her nest. 

Ed. Is she so ugly ? 

Fro. Gods, sire ! Thou shouldst but see her ! 
Thou wilt sup 
But sparingly to-night. 

Ed. How, boy ? 

Fro. Why, sire, 

She'd take away the appetite o' a vulture. 
107 



But there's my master's horn. Thy pardon, sire. 
I run to help thy welcome. [Exit.] 

Ed. He's not false. 

No, he hath not deceived me. This young lad 
Wears the smooth, easy front of honesty. 
Would now that I had lugged the priest along 
To grieve at my rejoicing ! 

A Room in Athelwold's Castle. 

[Enter Athelwold.] 

Ath. It can be done. It can be done. That's 
certain. 
Would that her beauty were less palpable, 
Less self-assertive! Nay — it can be done. 
That faded gown, ill-shapen ; then her hair 
Brought low and covered by a dingy wimple ; 
No gems. Her eyebrows dusted o'er with flour. 
Some dark stain on her pretty teeth. Yes, yes — 
The nurse is faithful. Oh, 'tis certain — ay, 
'Tis a sure thing. Would I had time myself 
To look upon her ere she comes ! But then 
She hath her womancraft for handmaiden, 
And knowledge of her possible fate withal 
To egg her to it. Would it were to-morrow ! 
Or Edgar come and gone! To know thyself 
That thou art lying is sufficient torture ; 
But when 'tis known to wife and servant, oh, 
'Tis insupportable. I fear myself — 
I fear myself in this. Yet she doth love me — 
10S 



All else is nothing while that she doth love me. 
Wilful, but dear in all, in all enchanting. 
Would God 'twere over ! Would to God 'twere 
over ! 

heart, thou hang'st too heavy. Cheerly, heart ; 

1 have sore need of thee. Be stanch, good heart, 
And break not with this monstrous weight. 

[Enter Edgar.] 

Your Majesty — 

Ed. I tell thee I've no majesty, my Thane, 
When thou dost tax me with it, and in truth 
Am urged to prove its lack by cuffing thee ! 
Out, sir ! to thus besire and bemajesty 
A king made sick with too much deference ! 

Ath. Wilt seat thee, Edgar? Supper will be 
served 
When my wife enters. 

Ed. Ay, this wife o' thine. 

Thou didst deserve a fairer fate, my Thane, 
For truth. They say she has a nose withal 
To make a pelican top-heavy. 

Ath. Nay, 

Her nose is well enough. 'Tis that she's sallow 
And scorched by many summers. Then, alack ! 
She hath black teeth, which were a flaw had 

marred 
The Virgin Mary. Then, she's squarely shaped. 
Well, well — but she hath gold. 
109 



Ed. Ay, gold. But, 'faith, 

Thou shouldst be better spoused. I fear thy 

children 
May not translate thee justly. 

Ath. (bitterly). Trust me, Edgar, 

If e'er I have a child 'twill be no great 
And bulky matter for't to do me justice. 

Ed. Well, well, Sir Modesty. She tarries, sir, 
Takes her own time, and, not content with that, 
Filches her King's. Ha ! ha ! — I'll wager, man, 
She stirs thee soundly. 

Ath. Ay, sir. 

Ed. Well, my ride 

Hath set a keen edge to my appetite ; 
I'll do thy viands justice — doubt me not. 
How keepest Patience still a guest, my Thane, 
In this old castle? Hast thou hawks? Good 

sooth ! 
I'll send thee such a couple o' jashawks, man, 
Would bring thee down an eagle. 

Ath. No — no gifts, 

For God's sake. That is, couldst thou know but 

once 
How she will rail at such diversion — 

Ed. Well, 

So be it. Seat thee, man. It seems to me 
This trick o' walking rooms hath grown on thee. 

Ath. Most like — most like. (Aside.) Saints ! 
What doth keep her ? 
no 



Ed. So ? 

Ha ! ha ! 'tmay serve thee in good stead, Sir Knave, 
If the young Thane should be a burner o' al- 
nights. 
Ath. Sir, shall we drink ? Ho, there ! some 

wine ! 
Ed. Oh, ay. 

I'll no more turn from wine than babes from milk. 
Well, well ! Fm sorry thou'lt not take the jas- 

hawks ; 
But I've a barb. Doth your wife ride ? 

Ath. No, no. 

Ed. (laughing). Horses do shy at her, mayhap? 
Ath. Oh, ay. 

I know not. Sometimes. Here's the wine. Kneel, 

boy, 
To serve a king. (Aside.) Gods ! will she never 
come ? 
Ed. Here's to thy truth. 
Ath. And thine. 

Ed. Zounds ! 'tis good wine. 

Excellent well, i' faith. 

Ath. The butt is thine. 

Ed. Why, I'll not squiny at it. Look thee, 
man — 
Thou'lt take the barb now ? 

Ath. No, no ; nothing — nothing ! 

Ed. I see thou'rt moved by something, Athel- 
wold. 

in 



If 'tis thy wife's long tarrying that frets thee, 
I know these women. 

Ath. Yet, sir, she was robed 

When I came forth to meet thee. 

Ed. Oh, well, patience. 

I know 'em, how they'll change and change their 

fallals, 
Then back again, then as they were at first, 
Then back again. But wilt thou drink ? 

Ath. No more. 

Ed. One horn — but one. Come, quaff! 

Ath. Well, then, one only. 

Ah ! 'tis her foot ! 

Ed. Thy lady's ? 

Ath. Ay. There — there — 

There is the door she'll enter by. 

Ed. Thou'rt pale. 

Thy hand shakes. Lean on me. Why art thou 

troubled ? 
That door to th' middle there ? 

Ath. Ay — that one — that one. 

Now — 

[Enter Elfreda, slowly, blazing with jewels, and 
with her wimple thrown back.] 

God in heaven ! 
Ed. What is this — some trick ? 

Speak, madam. You, sir, speak. God's eyes, sir J 
Speak, 

112 



When I command thee. Is that woman there 

I choke ! I choke !— thy wife— Elfreda ? 

Ath. Ay> 

Elfreda, and my wife. 

Ed. What ! thou dost say it ? 

Thou, madam — dost thou say so ? Where's thy 

tongue ? 
I will be answered. Know'st thou I'm the 

King, 
Edgar of England, who do question thee ? 
Art thou Elfreda, sometime child of Olgar, 
The Earl of Devonshire ? 

W- I am that Elfreda. 

Ed. Oh God ! My brain's on fire. Thou, Ath- 
elwold, 
Thou — thou — Come — lie again — tell me this 

woman's 
Thy wanton, not thy wife. 

-^- Nay ; she is both 

My wife and wanton. 

Elf Athelwold ! — my lord — 

Ath. Silence ! Nor ever speak to me again. 
Ed. Madam — sweet Heaven ! I dream — this is 
a dream. 
I know I dream — but while it lasts 'tis awful ! 
Ath. Thou dost not dream. That woman is 
Elfreda, 
The daughter of the Earl of Devonshire. 
I am her husband— Athelwold— thy friend? 
p 113 



Ed. Oh, horrible ! Madam, knewest thou of 
this? 

Elf. No — not until some minutes past, my liege. 

Ed. What ! false to thee as well ? Oh, cow- 
ard! 

Ath. Nay, 
Thou shalt not live to call me coward. 

Elf. Ah ! 

Put up thy sword if but for love of me. 

Ath. For love of thee ? Harlot! 

Elf. What ! wilt thou dare ? 

Ed. Lady, fear not. I will protect thee. Sir, 
I cannot quite forget thee. Athelwold, 
Hast thou no word to say to me ? No whisper ? 
Nothing in explanation ? 

Ath. Nothing. 

Ed. What ! 

Nothing ? no word ? Then thou wilt brave it 

out 
I' the very teeth of scorn? Be comforted 5 
Thou yet shall be the Queen of England, lady. 

Ath. Now by the King of Heaven she shall not! 

Ed. Sir ! 

Ath. I tell thee, Edgar, whether pure or vile 
She is my wife, and with my very blood 
I will protect what's left to me of honor, 
Though it be smaller than the littlest freckle 
Upon a lily. 

Ed. Thou dost dare — dost dare ? 

114 



Atb. (swinging Elfreda behind him). This is 
the wife of Athelwoid the Thane. 
Let no man touch her, though he were in all 
Ten thousand times thy better and a king! 
Ed. Slave! 

Ath. By my sword ! Now look I like a slave ? 
What ! thou wouldst violate the marriage law 
Beneath my very roof? Thou wouldst make free 
With this my wife before my very eyes — 
Unhood Adultery and slip the jesses 
Of Rapine, and then think to see me bear it ? 
Lay but thy finger on her, and this sword, 
Which in thy cause hath druuk so much clean 

blood, 
Shall make thy heart its sheath ! 

Ay, thou mayst rage, 
Ay, fume ! Wert thou the King of twenty Eng- 

lands 
Thou shouldst not have this woman to thy 

Queen ! 
Nor think it love that spurs me. No, oh God ! 
Love lies more deeper buried than the roots 
Of this mad world. It is not, verily, 
That I do love this woman as my wife, 
But that as wife she hath some part in me, 
And therefore shall not be dishonored. Back ! 
Back to your court, O Edgar, and remember 
Kings should be subject to the laws they make, 
As God himself is subject to his laws. 
115 



Ed. Wrongs me and words me too? Back, 

sir, thyself! 
Ath. So thou wilt dare me, then ? Make her a 
widow 
And thou shalt have her ! 

Ed. Oh, Fll have her. 

[They fight.] 

Elf. Nay, 

Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! My lord ! God's love ! 

Will you be reasonable ? Oh, help ! help ! 

Help,there! Without there! Frothi ! Frothi ! Ho! 

Ho, there ! [Rushes out.] 

Ed. Thou 'it wounded. 

Ath. There is one for thee. 

Ed. Bloodthirsty as a wolf. Again ! Be 

warned ! 
Ath. Have at thee ! Wilt thou falter ? 

[They fight] 
Ed. Be thy blood 

On thine own head ! 
Ath. Amen. 

[Re-enter Elfreda with Frothi. Athelwold 
falls as they enter.] 

All's done. Farewell, boy. 

Thou wert true. [Dies.] 

Elf. (struggling with Edgar, who tries to hold 

her). Unloose me! Nay, I will go to him! I 

say I will ! [Rushes to him.] 

116 




isasiilS^ 







^ 




Athelwold ! Athelwold ! My love ! my lord! 
My husband ! Look, I'm here — I'm here ! Thy 

wife ! 
Elfreda! Oh, I meant it not ! Look up ! 
Boy, he's not dead. Thou'rt keeping back the 

ail- 
By hanging over him. Away ! My lord ! 
Athelwold ! What ? These stains upon my 

hands ! 
Jewels, I hate thee ! Off, ye traitors ! Thus — 
Thus do I rid me of my queenhood, thus 
Return to thee. Look, I am stript of all 
That wrought thy anger ! Look, I'll tear my 

face 
With these my very nails until I seem 
More vile than visible sin ! 

What ! not a motion ? 
Boy, chafe his hands. Oh, I will follow thee. 

[Swoons.] 
Fro. O fair and false ! O master ! master ! 

master! 

[Enter Oswald.] 

Oszv, Your Majesty, how goes the festival ? 
What ! nothing touched upon the table ? Ah ! 
Who is the lady ? 

Fro. (stabbing him). Go and ask my master! 
O filthy priest, this was thy handiwork 
From first to last. 

117 



Os-zv. My liege, I'm hurt to death. 

See that yon humpbacked pack o' villany 
Doth suffer for this deed. Promise ! 



Ed. 



Not I. 



He shall in naught be punished. As for thee, 

Thy punishment, false priest, is in the hands 

Of that High King whom thou hast always 

served 
With more of treachery evn than thou'st served 

me, 
Thy mortal monarch. 

(To Frothi.) Call thy lady's women ; 
She hath but swooned, I think. O Athelwold! 
Would God that I lay there instead of thee! 



THE END 



By AMELIE RIVES. 

A BROTHER TO DRAGONS, and Other 
Old-time Tales. Post Svo, Cloth, Or- 
namental, $i oo. 

VIRGINIA OF VIRGINIA. A Story. Il- 
lustrated. Post Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, 
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Miss Rives has imagination, breadth, and a daring and 
courage oftenest spoken of as masculine. Moreover, she 
is exquisitely poetical, and her ideals are of an exalted 
order. — N. Y. Star. 

It was a little more than two years ago that Miss Rives 
made her first literary conquest, a conquest so complete 
and astonishing as at once to give her fame. How well 
she has sustained and added to the reputation she so sud- 
denly won we all know, and the permanency of that rep- 
utation demonstrates conclusively that her success did not 
depend upon the lucky striking of a popular fancy, but 
that it rests upon enduring qualities that are developing 
more and more richly year by year. — Richmond State. 

It is evident that the author has imagination in an un- 
usual degree, much strength of expression, and skill in 
delineating character. — Boston Journal. 

There are few young writers who begin a promising 
career with so much spontaneity and charm of expression 
as is displayed by Miss Rives. — Literary II 'orld, Boston. 

Miss Rives is essentially a teller of love stories, and 
relates them with such simple, straightforward grace that 
she at once captures the sympathy and interest of the 
reader. . . . There is a freshness of feeling and a min- 
gling of pathos and humor which are simply delicious. — 
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Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, N. Y. 

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